


The Stormlight That Guides Us

by Deathspren



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Angst, Canon Rewrite, Eventually???, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Book 03: Oathbringer, Shallan broke off the engagement, Trauma, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-04-25 06:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22276636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathspren/pseuds/Deathspren
Summary: In which two absolutely ignorant buffoons develop mutual feelings unbeknownst to the other, as well as to themselves. The story is set 4 months after the Battle at Theylenah. Many of the Radiants of Urithiru have started personal quests, essentially forcing Adolin and Kaladin to find company in each other. Something is holding them back, though...Chapter 14 is here ;)
Relationships: Kaladin & Adolin Kholin, Kaladin/Adolin Kholin
Comments: 58
Kudos: 122





	1. The Rumblings of the Storm

  
Kaladin sat on the edge of his cot within the bridge four barracks, brow furrowed in concentration as he worked furiously at a scuff on his boot.

“Damnation...” Kaladin muttered, the spot refusing to bend to his will.

He was in a strange mood today.

“It’s not like the storming princeling will notice a scuff on the boot of a common man”, Kaladin mumbled to no one in particular.

Kaladin had caught himself fixating on the prince recently. It troubled him greatly.

Why was he so worried about how he appeared to the young highprince? Adolin had seen him through thick and thin, in all manner of decorum, including lack thereof. So why was he so fixated on his impression on the storming man? They were only sparring today. And besides, they’d likely remove their jackets and other articles that would only get in the way of their practice with the sword.

Kaladin put down his boot, wiping his hands on a damp rag to remove the oil used to shine the particularities of his uniform.

He found himself amused at the intrusive thoughts. Him? The Stormblessed? The Radiant? Worrying about clothing? The thought of it almost made him chuckle.

The hour was early, even for Kaladin’s standards. Mishim’s pale glow was still bathing his room in a muted green light from the balcony window. Kaladin had to squint to see what he was doing. He fitted the offending boot onto his foot snugly, fastening it and brushing off some crem dust that had settled on the side. He stood up and grabbed his sphere pouch from under his pillow, tucking it away safely before strapping the officer’s straight sword Dalinar had urged him to wear to his side. He left the barracks, tiptoeing past Lopen and Sigzil lightly stirring in their bunks and walked briskly towards the training plateau.

He let his mind wander on the rather long walk to the sparring grounds. They’d won the battle in Theylenah, if only just, and had been triumphant against the most infinite evil the world has ever known. But as it always was with war, no side ever truly won. The battle had left a scattered coalition, and a sense of disarray that had worked its way even into the symbols of hope themselves. The new radiants, burdened now with a daunting truth, all handled their inner turmoil in different ways. That battle happened 4 months ago, and those months brought such drastic changes Kaladin could have sworn they were in a different era from when they first entered Urithiru.

Running his hands along the strata on the wall idly as he walked, Kaladin thought of the following days after the great battle and the numerous changes that happened around him. Jasnah, now queen of Kholinar and its scattered citizens, had begun molding the tower into a proper... city? Country? Kaladin shook his head.

Aside from Jasnah, who was now confined to her queenly duties and moving away from her role as a surgebinder, a great many of the radiants they had collected had decided to follow their own path for a short time; albeit agreeing to reconvene immediately if there were any threats to Urithiru. These who embarked on a personal quest included Teft, Szeth, Renarin, and even Shallan - all determined to have a brief journey of self discovery.

Kaladin winced at the thought of Shallan. Her performance at the battle of Theylenah had left her emotions bare to the world, and she was the first among the radiants to announce her departure. The decision to pursue this journey of self-reflection led her to end the causal betrothal with the young prince, on good terms of course. Adolin took it surprisingly well, actually.

Almost too well...

Kaladin had been spending more time with Adolin ever since Shallan had left. Under some circumstance, he had somehow landed into routine training with the prince.

But there was something that was troubling Kaladin. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or… something else, but he’d had a shift in perspective about how Adolin regarded him. It had been small things at first, a pat on the arm here, an arm perched on his shoulder there. Once in a while he’d even get a jovial slap to the backside after he had somehow impressed the prince. Recently though, Kaladin had noticed some more substantial changes in the way Adolin presented himself when near him. He was praising him frequently, trying to find and sit with him during meetings, and almost making a beeline to talk to him when they were in any sort of vicinity to each other. Kaladin thought he had even noticed the prince wearing a touch of cologne to their sparring sessions.

_Storms_... Kaladin thought.

What to do about that?

Kaladin rounded a corner at a four-way intersection of the dim hallways, following the particular red-brown strata that led to the training area.

He became frustrated with himself.

He was overthinking the situation. Adolin had always been this way around him, he had just been too busy with other things to notice. Kaladin always misread situations, and this was probably just a byproduct of being bored. If he had the time to entertain such idle nonsense then he obviously wasn’t working hard enough. Besides, at the end of the day he would always be a bridgeman to Adolin, he was sure of that. He wanted to purge those useless observations out of his head.

Kaladin felt himself grow oddly bitter for some reason. It’s not as if he disliked the prince, he just...

Kaladin’s thoughts took a long pause.

...What _did_ he think about Adolin?

He was a friend... right?

He felt uneasy thinking of that word. A friend... He didn't like it. If he got attached... If he let himself get too close, then...

He shoved the train of thought to the back of his mind, walking a bit faster down the winding hallway, almost at a jog.

_Adolin would never think of me as anything more than a bodyguard anyway._ He thought angrily, scowling, _I’m just the treasured radiant, and damnation I had better keep my mind off of such ludicrous thoughts._

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Adolin Kholin had a very very difficult problem.

He was pacing on the outside rim of the training plateau, thumb and forefinger against his chin, a pensive look about him. Not only had the end of his betrothal hardly affected him as much as he thought it would, but he’d daresay he was almost grateful that it had ended abruptly. Could he even admit such a proclamation to himself? He cared for Shallan, he truly did, but something about the battle in Theylenah had changed her. She entered the fray a broken, fragile, yet beautiful young girl, and had emerged as a woman. She emerged not entirely whole, but she was seeing herself as herself, Shallan Davar, for the first time. She became a radiant, not just in name. He knew that she need not rely on him any longer, now seeking to fulfill her own destiny. To make her own choices. He was... happy for her. That was really all he felt. No lingering heartbreak, no animosity, no regrets.

That was all well and good, he had had months to come to terms with that. That wasn’t even the source of his troubles today. Oh no, this was a particularly troublesome problem indeed.

He stopped along the outer rim of Urithiru’s circular balcony and placed both of his hands flat on the small wall. He leaned against it and, breathing deeply, tried to calm himself. Without fail, his thoughts had been drifting back to that storming bridgeman in the recent weeks. Whenever he had time outside of boring conferences and seeing to the state of his army, he would catch himself daydreaming about Kaladin. The trip to shadesmar, the tenderness that Kaladin showed, the vulnerability. A memory of a warm, tight embrace, the spearman’s stifled sobs against his shoulder, mourning the lives of those he could not save. The deep, haunted, yet unyielding look in his eyes as he picked himself up, dusted himself off, and feigned confidence for the sake of the mission. Kaladin weeping for him, cradling him when he had suffered the spear to the stomach. Adolin’s heart fluttered. That bizarre twist in his stomach formed as it had for the past few weeks. Why did he get like this when thinking about the bridgeman? The bridgeman of all people. The scowling, grimacing, grouchy bridgeman.

Adolin had begun training Kaladin with the sword after their return to Urithiru, almost every day now. The chull headed man had insisted he need not learn sword skills, now possessing an infinite number of weapons at his disposal, including a Sylspear available at all times. He claimed he had better things to do than to “play fight” with Adolin. The prince had to chip away at Kaladin’s stubbornness, explaining over and over that a spear wasn’t the best weapon for every situation. He eventually yielded, reluctantly noting that his lack of knowledge on sword stances when facing Amaram had almost been the death of him.

“We’re facing a force we have no knowledge of.” He had told the bridgeman, “Do you, captain of the royal guard and knight radiant, really want to refuse a resource you could use on the battlefield?”  
That had seemed to break through Kaladin’s stubborn shell. It was all about pragmatism with that one.

So here Adolin was, after sparring with the other man for months, weak-kneed and trembling like a recruit on his first day of training. Anticipationspren wriggled out of the ground by his feet, small red streamers, giving him a start with their presence.

Adolin shook himself.

_What’s happening to me?_ He asked himself.

He didn’t even know why he was nervous. It was just Kaladin. Was it… intimidation he was feeling?

_It must be that._ He thought to himself rather unconvincingly.

Adolin pushed off the wall and stomped fervently towards the entrance of the training ground, frustrated with himself. What was he? Some little boy holding a sword against his master for the first time? He was a storming highprince, not some weak-hearted child. And besides, Kaladin had always thought of him as a bother. Adolin knew it, by how reserved he was around him. He never seemed to enjoy training either. He barely spoke, only grunting ever so often at advice or instruction, and he looked miserable every session; well, more miserable than usual. There were occasionally rare days when Kaladin was in a rather humorous mood, but he knew that wasn’t because of him. He knew he shouldn’t dare get his hopes up.

Adolin paused.

_Hopes up for what?_ He thought.

He didn't know. Kaladin had never given him so much as a second glance. But the problem was, he enjoyed spending time with Kaladin. He didn't quite understand why...

Steeling himself, he neared the large archway of the entrance where he would wait for Kaladin to arrive.  
Today’s sparring match might just be the death of him.

________________________________________________________________

Kaladin scowled reflexively as soon as he saw the princeling. He was standing right at the archway with that goofy grin plastered on his face. How was that man so storming happy all the time?

He slowed his almost frantic pace as he neared the other man. The sun was beginning to rise over the rolling mountains in the distance, clearly visible from the massive circular areas that wrapped around the tower. Kaladin, coming from the dark hallways, had to move his arm over his face to block the light while his eyes adjusted.

“You’re late, bridgeboy!” Adolin called without a hint of chastisement. “I was almost tempted to start without you! Though I’m sure the training dummies would have provided similar company.”

He was tempted to chuckle at that one. Any feelings of resentment or hesitation Kaladin seemed to fade away upon seeing the prince. Odd, that. A few months ago, Kaladin would have itched to punch the man for that remark. But now... it was hard to resist his charisma.

He passed under the archway, slowing to a gentle gait as Adolin fell in beside him, beginning to make their way to the other end of the plateau where the sword training grounds were.

“Well at least then you’d have company of comparable wit to joke with.” Kaladin retorted flatly. He actually almost brought himself to a smile.

The prince feigned shock dramatically.

“Was that a smile I saw? A blessing for today. When a skyeel grins at you it’s said to bring good luck, you know.”

Although somewhat irritated with the pointless banter, Kaladin couldn't help but find himself engaged in it.

Quipping back and forth, they threw witty remarks at each other for some time, before easing into casual chatting. Just like it always was. It seemed that they had never gotten past this. They had casual conversations, yes, but mutual insults were the only sort of familiarity they seemed to indulge in. For his own sake, Kaladin almost wished it stayed that way. But... when had he begun to enjoy this so much? The Kaladin from a few months ago had seen Adolin as a minor annoyance. They had warmed up to each other, if only slightly, idly joking and chatting.

He knew this wasn't good for him. Spending too much time with someone was never good for him...

He had trained with Adolin before, seeing it as more of a chore than anything else. But recently these sparring sessions had worked their way to become somewhat of the highlight of his day. Even more so than flying with his squires, he realized. How? At the end of the day he knew more about the Highprince’s swordplay than about the man himself. He needed to stop this, before it got too far. Before he cared.

They reached the wide rectangular pit of sand in the middle of the wide balcony, butted up against the masterfully crafted stone building being used to store training equipment.

“Alright bridgeboy, let’s get to it then.” Adolin said, voice still bearing the hint of a laugh over something Kaladin had said moments before.

The two moved into the training building to prepare their gear.


	2. A Battle of Swords and Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite what the last bit of the chapter may imply, this won't be a smut fic.

After performing a standard morning kata, Adolin felt much more relaxed. He was in his element. Familiar and natural. 

The field of sand was empty save for the two men, requisitioned for their private training sessions. Kaladin settled into his position directly across from Adolin. 

“This week you’ll be practicing smokestance,” The prince began, “We’ll do four sets of bouts, three rounds in each. As usual, you may defend with other stances but you are only to use smokestance to engage. You may also use your dagger in your offhand. I will use any stance necessary to attack and defend. No tackling, punching, and especially no storml-“

The bridgeman cut him off, scowling.

“Storms, man. Do you have to go through the whole speech every time we do this?”

“Yes.” Adolin said matter-of-factly.

Kaladin made a big show of groaning in frustration. 

“Ugh... alright, fine! Let’s just start. But you did punch me last week...” the prince grumbled.

“That was an accident!” Kaladin said defensively, “I-... I didn’t mean to hurt you...”

Adolin, noting the other man’s ears turning red, left it at that.

He thrust his hand to his side, palm open. 

_I’m sorry, Maya._ He thought.

_Ten... No... Seven heartbeats_

Maya dropped into his palm, coalescing from mist. Dew dripped down the sides of the massive blade.

** _Peace, Son of Honor_ **

Her words reverberated softly in his mind, barely a whisper. They reassured him.

He took the large block of silvery metal lying on the ground next to him and touched it to his blade’s edge. The metal instantly affixed itself to the entire blade, dulling it.

Across from him, Kaladin called for Syl. Zipping down from the sky almost immediately, she appeared as a small woman above his shoulder. Then, giggling, she puffed into Kaladin’s hand as a shardblade. She would be completely dull for the sake of training.

_Wait... I just saw Syl!_ Adolin grinned internally, taking great pride in the spren showing herself to him.

He’d think about what that meant later though. Now, he would fight.

They fell into stance. 

___________________________________________________________________________________

Many bouts later, Kaladin stood crouched low on the edge of the sand pit, still in smokestance. Adolin was a few feet away bearing vinestance, inching closer on the ball of his feet. Kaladin was puffing, forehead wet with sweat, his jacket laying forgotten on the ground somewhere. Mustering his strength, he lunged at Adolin and thrust low under the prince’s sword, aiming for the chest. Kaladin was fast, but Adolin seemed to be made of the wind itself in this arena. The princeling twisted his arm, easily batting his attacker’s blade away with the pommel of his shardblade. In the same movement he swung the massive sword in a sweeping arc, trying to catch Kaladin in the shoulder as he stumbled backwards. Still off balance from the parry, the bridgeman’s only option was to drop down to avoid the sweep. By some twist of fate, he managed to use that to his advantage. 

He dove forward towards Adolin and the prince’s blade almost nicked his head. He rammed the dagger in his left hand deep into the sand as a handhold and threw his weight against it. His legs swung to the side and crashed into Adolin’s. The prince yelped in shock as his legs dropped out from beneath him, earning him an embarrassing tumble to his backside in the sand. Kaladin pounced on him, landing on his chest with his legs on either side, knocking the wind out of him. Gasping, Adolin dropped his shardblade which puffed away into mist. The bridgeman stabbed his shardblade into the sand next to his head, heaving forward to pin the dazed man’s arms to the ground with his powerful legs. He whipped the dagger he had in his left hand to the other man’s throat, quick as lightning.

“Yield.” He growled, voice dripping with ferocity.

Kaladin was so close to him. He could feel his hot breath on his face, eyes looking directly into his. The pumping of adrenaline was clearly affecting the man who was over him, eyes dilated, the look of a predator. Adolin realized that Kaladin was straddling his chest, intimately close. His heart pounded.

“I said YIELD!” Kaladin shouted. 

Adolin felt his face grow hot. 

“I... yield.” Adolin whispered. 

“I yield. And you, bridgeboy, have earned your first victory against me. Congratulations.” The confidence had returned to his voice with that. But that confidence was in his voice only. He was sure he was blushing. 

It took a few long seconds for Kaladin to process the words, eyes still boring into Adolin’s soul.

_So ferocious, so wild. Stormfather..._ Adolin tackled those thoughts and locked them away.

“I won.” Kaladin said softly. 

“Kalek’s breath, I won!” He repeated, sounding more excited this time. He threw his knife away to the side. “I won against the storming master duelist himself!” 

He looked down at his hands incredulously as if they had somehow changed with the victory.

“Erm... yeah Kaladin, I’m impressed... but could you... uh?” Adolin turned his head to the side to hide his face.

“Oh... Oh! Yeah, yeah sorry.”

He scrambled off of the blond man, Syl puffing to mist where he had left her. 

Adolin sat up, still dazed and a little more than flustered. 

_Did that really just happen?_ Adolin thought, mind still fuzzy from the adrenaline.

It was the first time he had lost to anybody in a long, long time. And Kaladin... well he was usually so stoic. It threw him off guard to see the bridgeman so intense up close.

Lost in his racing thoughts, Adolin completely missed the hand being offered to him by Kaladin.  
Adolin snapped back to reality, took the hand, and was hoisted to his feet.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Adolin stood there looking perplexed, deep in thought.

Kaladin had never seen the princeling so clearly troubled over anything before.

“Thanks for helping me up.” the Highprince said absentmindedly.

“What’s the matter? Did I break that castle sized ego of yours?” Kaladin said, smirking.

“No I... No.” Adolin’s brow unfurrowed. His eyes unglazed and he began dusting himself off. “You performed excellently today Kal. I think it might be time to move you to more advanced swordplay techniques.”

Adolin continued talking about what that training might entail.  
He was still trying to brush the dust and sand off of himself where it had stuck to the sweat through his clothes. A futile attempt. Kaladin knew the garb would need to be washed anyway.

Adolin was wearing the standard practice attire. His uniform pants and boots, arm guards, leg guards, the standard leather wraparound for his head, and a tight white undershirt with a quarter sleeve. Today’s practice had been quite rigorous, and like Kaladin, Adolin was drenched in sweat. It didn’t help that when wet, what was underneath the undershirts became strikingly visible. Adolin had a strong, muscled build. Well defined and fit for combat, but not burly. Kaladin was sure the prince had avoided adding any more mass onto his frame for the aesthetic appeal. Storming man. He could see the traces and curves of his physique under the shirt. The outline of his washboarded stomach, the broad chest, and his strong shoulders. He-

“KALADIN!” 

Kaladin jumped, eyes snapping to Adolin’s face.

“Anybody home bridgeboy? I had to call you a few times there.”

“Uhh... Yeah.” Kaladin muttered.

_What? Where had that train of thought come from? This might be getting dangerous..._

He had been gawking. How long had he been staring? Had he really been admiring the princeling? Well, he _was_ impressive. Anyone with at least half their eyesight could see that. But... Kaladin never thought like that. He didn't have time to examine people before now, when it was do or die for him. He was in unfamiliar territory.

He flushed.

“So, we start your new training regimen tomorrow. Expect to work harder than we have before.”

Kaladin groaned. He was already exhausted just from sparring, albeit for several hours. Not to mention he still had a full day ahead of him. 

Adolin crossed the gap between them and clasped a hand on Kaladin’s shoulder, grinning widely. Kaladin flinched instinctively at the contact. He met his eyes.

“You did wonderful today Kal, I mean it. For only a few months’ training you’ve gotten so far it’s almost scary.” 

Those piercing blue eyes... and damnation... that smile. That damned smile. And wait... had he called him Kal? When had he started doing that? The best he could ever get out of Adolin was ‘Kaladin’, but most of the time it was just bridgeboy. He supposed he shouldn’t complain though, he only ever referred to the highprince as ‘princeling’.

The prince shook him lightly and released his grip, patting Kaladin on the shoulder before retreating. 

They began walking towards the stone building to store the training gear, retrieving Kaladin’s jacket on the way. He always wore his full uniform during practice.

_What's going on with me today?_ Kaladin wondered. Sure, he had seen the prince in various states of undress before, but his eyes never _lingered_. Was it the fatigue getting to him? But he had never done this _before_. Then again, he never had time to think about anything but his duties... This was leading to bad places. If he lost control himself then he'd only get hurt again. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m quite tired after today’s bout. I need a good showering and a nap.” Adolin said, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rode up a bit, giving Kaladin a generous view. 

_Stop that!_ Kaladin yelled at himself internally. _You're doing it again!_

Irritated at himself for not being focused, he tore his eyes away and gave a scoff.

“Today I’m living with the smell. The storming fabrial pumps in the bridge four washrooms malfunctioned yesterday. We have a team of engineers looking at it today.” Kaladin scowled for no reason. “And I don’t have the luxury of naps like you storming lighteyes, princeling.” He spat. 

He winced slightly. He hadn’t meant for it to come out so harshly. The frustration at his thoughts had seeped out of him. He beat himself up on the inside for the sour outburst. Why did he have to be like this all the time? Adolin had never done him wrong...

“Oh... Ok." Adolin turned to look straight ahead. "Sorry."

The walk to the training building became a lot longer, and a lot quieter.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Adolin and Kaladin organized the training supplies and were getting ready to leave the training area. 

Adolin was formulating a scheme. 

He had just been reminded about how irritated Kaladin had been lately, probably due to lack of any relaxation or rest. But with training, an army of squires, bridge four management, and guard duty piled onto everything else he had to deal with, the man hardly ever slept. That had to be the reason for Kaladin’s shifting moods.

_"Storming Lighteyes"_

The words echoed in his mind. He would be lying if he said it didn't hurt being referred to that way. 

“So,” Adolin began cautiously. “Why not consider taking the day off today?” 

__

He began buttoning his jacket over his sweaty shirt. The bridgeman bristled, turning to look at him while he finished strapping his side sword to his uniform. 

__

“I told you earlier, I don’t have the time for that...” 

__

He said it much more calmly this time. 

__

“Well Kal, you deserve a rest. You passed a milestone today.”

__

“What would you suggest I do? Abandon my duties?” 

__

“No, you could have some of your men handle things for the day.”

__

Kaladin paused for a moment, considering, but then his expression turned resolute. 

__

“I have to be there to train the squires. Teft is gone for now and Lopen has his own men to look after.”

__

Adolin smirked, both walking out the door to meander back into the tower. He had caught Kaladin.

__

“Bridgeboy, let's not play games, you have Skar, Drehy, and Lynn for that.”

__

Kaladin looked at him, dumbfounded “How did y-“

__

Adolin interrupted him, “You couldn’t hide that fact for very long Kal. The guards at Stormseat saw Skar flying with a group of recruits a few weeks ago.” Adolin presumed he kept the new radiants a secret for safety reasons, worried they would get deployed on difficult missions without being fully trained.

__

Kaladin sputtered.

__

“I... I...” He stopped, then he sighed.

__

“I’m sorry, but I couldn't tell you. I just had concerns about revealing them too early. They're my responsibility, and it's my duty to ensure that they're fit to perform tasks on their own before being consigned. And I'm certain you know how eager the public is to have more Radiants... It's just not the right time. But back to the main point, I really can’t justify gallivanting about when I have people that depend on me.”

__

“I’ve seen your men bridgeboy, they could handle themselves for one day. Besides, Dalinar and Navani haven’t seen you in weeks. They’d love to have you for dinner. Jasnah too.”

__

His cousin had warmed up to the bridgeman considerably since their first meeting. She found his direct and challenging nature to be refreshing, and had learned he had quite a wit about him. She sought Kaladin when she needed a fresh perspective on things, when she was sick of stuffy old ardents and mousy scribes. Adolin had even caught them discussing Surgebinding technicalities over tea late one night. 

__

Kaladin was silent for a time. Then let out a large sigh. “You really are persistent, aren’t you.” 

__

Adolin grinned stupidly. “So that’s a yes?” 

__

“... Ok.”

__

Adolin whooped loudly inside his head. Outwardly he only gave a pleased smile.

__

“But there’s still a problem.” Kaladin gestured over himself, “I can’t dine with the royal family in this state. I reek!”

__

Kaladin made sure to drive his point home by crudely lifting his arm and sniffing under it, then recoiling. “And since the plumbing is down, I can’t wash my uniform.”

__

“Well, come do it in my quarters. I have my own showering room.”

__

Adolin couldn't deny this was a somewhat selfish offer. Well... in his mind that sounded rather... wrong. No, with all that had been going on emotionally he certainly wasn't going to put himself in a situation to shower next to the other man. Things were confusing enough as is... This was just so the prince could get Kaladin to spend a little time with him, maybe enjoy the lack of responsibility for a while. At least he hoped he would, if that storming bridgeboy even had the capacity to enjoy things.

__

Kaladin looked at him, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, as if searching for something. “Is that alright? Using the high prince’s own washroom?”

__

“Well sure. You’re my closest friend.” Adolin felt his heart tighten. He hadn’t meant to say something so direct.

__

Kaladin pulled back, seemingly in surprise, scowling. The gesture was unmistakably of confusion.

That gesture hurt him more than he'd admit. He been able to tell from his daily training with the spearman that he didn't necessarily enjoy Adolin's company, but a part of him had hoped that Kaladin just couldn't show it. He had just been proven wrong. The grimace made his heart fall. 

_Oh no... I really must not be a friend to him after all._ Adolin lamented. _He didn’t seem so happy about accepting the invitation either..._

__

They reached the large archway.

__

“W-... well I guess that would be fine. We’ll have to stop by the bridge four barracks for a spare set of underclothes then.” Kaladin muttered, idly scratching the back of his neck.

__

The look on Kaladin's face did not indicate eagerness to spend the evening with the prince.

__

_Stupid fool,_ Adolin chastised himself, _this was a mistake. I just twisted his arm into doing something he doesn’t want to do… I gave him no way out, and pressured him..._

__

“Right then, I’ll lead the way.” 

__

Adolin turned and entered the corridor.

__

Hesitantly, Kaladin followed after him, face still troubled.

__


	3. A Reminder

Adolin remembered that day in Thaylen City. 

He had found Shallan, scuffed and worn, collapsed against one of the parapets on top of the city wall. She looked exhausted, her army of illusions long since dissipated. He worried about her. Even as he comforted her and tried to make sense of her explanations, he could tell she was fragmented. Her voice, even her features, seemed to flicker back and forth between people that weren’t her. She was forgetting who she was. Adolin had said what he felt at that moment, something that Shallan had needed so desperately to hear. It was okay to hurt. It was okay not to be strong. It was okay to have made mistakes. She could show her mistakes to him, as he had made many, many himself. He loved Shallan. Not Veil. Not Radiant.

They had embraced tightly and then broken away for some time to think. Shallan looked calmer after he had spoken his mind, some of the cloudiness behind her eyes diminishing. After Adolin had surveyed the city post-battle, they had met again amongst the rubble in the streets of the low ward. Adolin had been watching Kaladin in the sky when she found him.

“Adolin. Its time we talked.” She followed his gaze.

“Shallan…?” he said, concern lacing his voice.

“I have made a decision.” She drew closer, making eye contact with him and putting her freehand on his shoulder.

He shifted.

“Adolin, dearest, I feel that I have been too dishonest with you.” She began, voice steady, a look of determination in her eyes. “I say what I am now because I know it is right. I have lost my identity so profoundly that I am confident I have misled you, as well as myself.”

“Shallan you hav-“ 

She continued, talking over him.

“I have lived without facing myself for far, far too long. I acted as a vessel for the will of others and left no room to reflect and determine who I am.” She breathed deeply, and her shoulders slumped slightly. “I wonder now if the choices I have made in my life were mine, or if they were merely a byproduct of other people.”

“Shallan, I don’t understand? What have you decided?” he said, growing nervous.

“I have determined that I must come to terms with myself. Just as my Father had held me prisoner in that mansion for my entire life, I am trapping myself in my own mind. I need to break free, Adolin.”

Silence. 

“You wish to end the betrothal.” He said solemnly as she removed her hand from his shoulder.

“Yes.”

He grimaced, letting out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. He was shocked. He was devastated. He wanted to plead with her, beg her to rethink her decision.

And yet... He understood.

Shallan grasped his hands firmly in hers. “I am so, so sorry for involving myself with you when I was not ready. But Adolin, I feel like this will be the first time I’ve made a decision on my own. I was always motivated by what I had to do for other people and I never thought once about what I needed to do for myself. For the first time in my entire life, I’m going to be making a decision for **me**. I…”

He could see tears forming in her eyes, her voice wavering. Gently, as if he was afraid he would hurt her, he wrapped his arms around her. His mind and heart felt tired from the day.

“Shallan, I care for you. I truly do. That is why I will stand by you on this decision. You’re the strongest woman I know, and I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. If this is what you have to do to make yourself happy, then please, please do it without any hesitation. I will always be here for you.” 

He meant it all.

"Adolin," she choked out. "I don't _know_ if this will make me happy. I don't know _anything_ anymore. I just know I have to do this... I just know that I can't have you..."

She whimpered, and he clung to her tighter.

They stood there, in the middle of the street embracing for some time, Shallan’s soft sobs echoing off of the loose rubble and collapsed buildings.

When they broke apart, Shallan shakily wiped her eyes with her safehand sleeve; the havah was ruined anyway. Adolin was feeling a lot of things, but strangely… not sadness… not even disappointment. What was he feeling right now?

“So,” Shallan said, voice still quivering. “I must leave. I must leave and find out what it is that I want. As a human. As a radiant. For how long I do not know.”

“A personal quest, then?”

“Yes, of sorts.”

Adolin realized something. He was proud of her. He felt happy. Shallan had changed. It wasn’t Veil, it wasn’t Radiant, it wasn’t even his now former betrothed speaking to him. This was **Shallan Davar of Jah Keved** talking to him. For the very first time in what Adolin assumed to be a lifetime, she was speaking for herself. 

As he pondered this thought Kaladin floated down and perched on the steeple of a broken monastery not far off.

Adolin glanced at him.

“Though Adolin,” she began slowly, sniffling lightly. “There is one more matter I wish to discuss.”

There was a pause.

“And… it is?” Adolin kicked away some splintered wood he had been standing on without noticing.

Shallan gestured towards Kaladin.

“The bridgeboy?” he said indignantly. “What about him?”

“Adolin our engagement is off, and though I consider you the light of my life, I know our relationship is not meant to be. Personally, I’m beginning to realize that my mental well-being must be handled before I am ready to rely on another in an intimate way. If I can't trust myself, then I can't trust anything.” She sounded confident despite the weight of this statement. “And I am ready to step aside for something greater; something I have been watching unfold for a long, long time.”

Adolin was very confused.

“Shallan I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

Shallan actually _snickered_. 

“of course you don’t.”

Adolin looked at Kaladin again.  
He leapt off of the steeple, rising a few feet before suspending himself in the air. He was surveying something Adolin obviously could not see.


	4. A Cold Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stormfather these two hopeless himbos are a mess.  
Also forgive me I couldn't remember what kind of accent Drehy had so I just opted for cockney I guess.  
Updated this chapter because the emotions felt rushed. I wanted this to have depth, feeling and also make sense. I don't think the reason for Kal's behavior was clear enough before.

Adolin kept a brisk pace down the hallway. He held out a sapphire mark for light, bathing the walls in an ethereal blue cast.

Kaladin followed, albeit lagging a bit behind. His head was swimming.

_Closest friend,_ he thought, over and over. _Closest Friend. Closest Friend. Closest. Friend._

The words had not only taken him by surprise, they had all but sent him into a panic. He was honestly surprised he hadn't fallen to pieces already. The situation had just become much, much more difficult for Kaladin. He had been blindsided. He wasn't ready to face these things now. He hadn't had enough time to think. He wanted to just run away where he could avoid all this. He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this; The strange feelings, Adolin's kindness, any sort of attachment at all. Why couldn't people just storming leave him alone before they got hurt?

His thoughts grew increasingly frantic.

_Snap out of it._ He growled at himself. _I can't lose control._

The highprince had just broken down every wall he had built around himself for years in a single sentence. Despite all his efforts to remain secluded and separate, to act callous and hateful, he had still messed up. He needed to get out of this bind, make Adolin lose those feelings. He hated the prince for putting him in this position. Though, deep down, Kaladin knew that the true reason for his discomfort was because he _cared_ about him. He didn't need him getting mixed up in his battles, getting hurt like he had in Shadesmar, or worse... It would only tear Kaladin further apart when the inevitable happened. 

Adolin moved to round a corner but Kaladin called out for him. 

“That’s the wrong way princeling!” he shouted. “We have to go straight here! We’re following the dark brown strata!”

Adolin had no idea what that meant, judging by the look on his face.

“Fine. You take the lead then, bridgeboy.” He said, eyes never meeting Kaladin’s. His tone was sharp. Controlled, but with stiffness and irritation seeping through the cracks."

_Storms,_ Kaladin cursed at himself in his head. Not only had he let someone get attached to him, he had also managed to offend said person. A person with whom he sparred with every day. He had to fix this before it became an even bigger issue.

With Kaladin in the lead they arrived at the bridge four barracks in minutes. They had barely spoken a word to each other since they had started walking.

Kaladin stopped just outside the barracks door. Taking a sharp breath, he turned abruptly towards Adolin, stiff.

“I… I’m sorry for how I acted at the training grounds.” He said suddenly. "It was out of line. I shouldn't have behaved so harshly towards someone who is training me."

Adolin regarded him flatly. Not a shred of emotion showing on his face.

He had given a half-lie. Of course Kaladin knew the _real_ reason why he was upset, but he gave an answer that he thought would both diffuse the tension while also making himself appear ignorant. He just wanted Adolin to accept it and move on. He just wanted this all to be over. Before he lost lost control and did something stupid. 

Adolin wasn't so easily fooled.

"I suppose your contempt isn't unaccounted for bridgeboy." He said lightly, still showing no trace of emotion. "But I won't be taken for a fool. I'm just disappointed that I overestimated our relationship. I understand, though, given your past.” 

"You understand **nothing**." Kaladin hissed. He had been so angered by the proclamation that Adolin "_understood_" him, that he had lashed out almost instantly.

Adolin's mask broke, briefly. Hurt flashed across his face.

"I suppose I don't." He said, flat tone remaining unchanged. "I'm just upset you didn't think to tell me you hated me sooner. If I knew I would’ve left you alone. I’m confused, angry. Can’t you see why?”

Kaladin's emotions went haywire. Pain, hatred, sadness, resentment all thrumming in his subconscious.

_The **audacity** of this storming man._ he thought incredulously.

How dare Adolin be upset with him. He wasn't the one who was suffering. He wasn't the one who had to isolate himself. He wasn't the one who just wished he could love a _single_ person without them being taken away.

Despite... or rather **in** spite of his frantic thoughts, Kaladin _laughed_. It wasn't a laugh of joy. It was the laugh of a man who had no other emotion to convey how frustrated he was.

Adolin looked profoundly confused. Laughing was not what he expected in a situation as tense as this.

”Kaladin...?” The prince was tensing, brow furrowed. 

Kaladin laughed until he felt he might pass out, clutching his stomach with white knuckles.

Tone firm, he leered at Adolin. "You think you have the right to be upset? You think you can be upset with **me** when you're the cause of all this? You don't have any idea, do you?" 

He looked even more confused.

”Kaladin, what on Roshar are you talking about? Is this some sort of game to you? Are you toying with me?” Adolin was beginning to sound irritated. “You can’t play with my emotions like this. I don’t understand what you think I’ve done to you... Just please, drop the act and tell me what’s going on...” 

Kaladin ignored him. “Your emotions aren’t something I want to play with, much less get to know. You’re becoming too much of an issue for me.” 

The prince’s face was alight with irritation and concern. He was gazing harshly into his eyes.

"I'm the issue here?" Adolin walked closer to Kaladin, sizing him up. "I'm the issue? When all you do is laugh and act friendly with me one day and then practically spit at my feet the next?! Kaladin, you never _talk_ to me, or anyone! Why can’t you ever just give me a straight answer?! You talk about my emotions being a problem, but have you even heard yourself speak before? The issue here is **you**!" 

With that last word, the princeling jabbed a finger at his chest.

Oddly, Kaladin didn't react to that. There were already so many things plaguing his mind that he had gone numb. He just wanted the day to be over, and it was barely afternoon. He wanted to stop this meaningless fighting and drone his way through everything. It wasn't about how Adolin felt anyway.

”You don’t get it. You just don’t get it.”

He somehow said this calmly, ignoring his inner rage.

”I don’t get **what**?!” Adolin practically yelled in Kaladin’s face. “You always find a way to be vague about everything! Just storming tell me what you’re feeling for once in your damned life!” 

A small thump from inside the barracks alerted him. It was close to the door. Close enough that...

Adolin hadn't noticed. He needed to stop this conversation _now_.

He turned on his heel away from the prince, voice controlled. "I'll keep my word to you Adolin, nothing more. I will go with you for the day and attend dinner with your family. We won't be talking about this any longer. This discussion is over." 

He started walking towards the barrack entrance. The prince didn't say a word to him as he went. As he neared the doorway he turned his head back to look at him.

"I can't be your friend, Adolin." He said sullenly. "Forgetting about it will be best for the both of us."

And before Adolin could respond, he retreated into the quarters, knots twisting in his stomach.

_____________________________________________________________________

In the barracks Kaladin caught Rock, Lynn, and Drehy trying to play it casual with a game of cards in the common area, as if they hadn’t just been listening in on his entire conversation. He was angry, he was upset, but he would _never_ take it out on his crewman. He forced his emotions away and regarded them.

“I suppose I deserved to be eavesdropped on, considering I started a scene like that in front of the nosiest darkeyed men and women in all of Roshar.” Kaladin said wryly. “Lynn, your cards are upside down.”

The scout stiffened and blushed, righting the cards quickly. 

“Awright, so ya caught us.” Drehy said, raising his hands defensively. “But ya really din’t try ta hide it or anyfink.” 

Kaladin sighed, fumbling with the latch on his storage trunk.

“Is good thing.” Rock chuckled. “To know the love life of captain is important. We are to be his supporters!”

The anger fell back into him like a bolt of lightning.

Kaladin sputtered, whipping his head away from where he had been looking in his trunk, leering poisonously at Rock.

Love. That word again. That storming word. He hated it.

“It’s **not** lo-...!” he began to growl. 

Rock guffawed, slapping Lynn on the shoulder. The gesture was supposed to be friendly, but on her small frame the slap knocked the wind out of the poor scout’s lungs, causing her to drop the cards in her hand. She coughed and gasped while Drehy rubbed her back.

“Is funny! He does not know this thing!” Rock bellowed. “Unkalaki know. We always know this thing, Hah!”

“Rock…” Kaladin said softly, defeated. He knew better than to argue with the Horneater. He just wished this conversation would be over.

Lynn spoke up, voice still ragged from the impact.  
“Ya know, you’re kind of clueless sometimes Kaladin.”

She had gotten much bolder since she joined bridge four. He was happy to see her open up.

“I…” Kaladin finally found the spare set of underclothes that was his goal.

The words that Adolin had spoken to him earlier, '_closest friend_', buzzed in his head painfully. Why did it have to be him? Kaladin had a curse he could never rid himself of. Nothing good would ever happen to Adolin while he was associated with him. He had a curse of isolation.

Kaladin felt sick.

“She’s roight ya know Cap’n. Ya look loike me n’ my husband when we first met. All tied up with th’ rules of etiquette, dodgin’ feelin’s and dancin’ round each other. Fightin' this way an' that cuz we could'n admit to each otha' what we felt. Seriously, Just talk to ‘im personally.” Drehy looked at him slyly.

“I can’t handle your honesty sometimes, all of you.” He said this playfully, but he was actually suffering internally. 

All this talk of ‘love’. He couldn't **_have_** love. Love was something that had been ripped away from him time and time again. Loving people had broken him, when they left, when they died. The others were being lighthearted, but they didn't know how much he suffered when he thought about love. No. He couldn't have love. Not when Tien's lifeless eyes stared at him every time he shut his own.

“But you love us!” Rock beamed.

He needed to leave immediately. He was just short of screaming. He couldn't deal with this now. While everything with the princeling was happening. The day was being cruel to him.

Kaladin hid the storm brewing in his head. He smiled warmly and nodded, then bid farewell to his friends and excused himself. Inside he was seething.

As he was walking out the door, he barely heard Drehy say something softly from the table.

“Go get ‘im Stormblessed.”

Kaladin walked faster, the storm beating against his skull.

______________________________________________________________


	5. The Stormwall

Adolin was waiting outside the barrack doorway, leaning against the rock wall with one foot flat against it. He was confused, but mostly torn apart by the intense, albeit short argument moments before. Yes, maybe he had jumped to conclusions, but Kaladin had not only rejected him with contempt, he had torn Adolin’s heart out and crushed it. He was practically on the verge of tears, heartache swelling up inside of him. He thought they had forged something between themselves. He had thought that the laughing and joking and smiles had meant something. He had just been proven wrong. He should’ve read the signs. Kaladin had probably entertained him out of pity or feigned respect.

The realizations sent him spiraling. He had misread everything.

_No._ A stubborn part of him snapped. _Don’t be stupid._

He was beginning to understand that there was something else going on here. There had been sorrow in Kaladin’s tone. He had told Adolin that he simply “couldn’t” be his friend. Why? Was it something he had done? He needed to find out why. If he had to, he’d force it out of the bridgeman. He wasn’t going to lose Kaladin just because he’d been told to.

Jarring him from his thoughts, the Windrunner himself whipped past Adolin, brown hair a flurry as he practically sprinted out the door. He pushed off the wall, slightly alert at his pace. Kaladin was facing away from the prince, gripping his underclothes tightly in his fist. Adolin could see the bright red tips of his ears from behind his hair. After a brief moment he turned back towards him, face completely composed, not even a hint of anger or blush. He folded his clothes quickly and stuffed them into his small satchel.

“Kaladin? Is everything alright?” He asked hesitantly.

“Absolutely,” the man said hurriedly. “let’s get going.”

The bridgeman began walking quickly down the corridor to the right of the barracks, not stopping for Adolin.

“Hey! Wait!” Adolin scrambled after him.

He caught up to Kaladin, who then slowed to a steady pace. He was greeted by uneasy silence. The tension was thick in the air.

They trudged along the pathways together, silent. Kaladin obviously knew where he was going, because the man apparently had some form of sixth sense when it came to the maze of hallways in this city. They made a few turns at intersections, one of which had 8 pathways, and passed through a tunnel that opened up to overlook the market plaza. It was busy today.

Adolin finally spoke up, wanting to address the silence.

“I meant what I said Kaladin. About you being my friend, I mean.”

No answer. Kaladin was still slightly ahead of him, face forward, hand held in front of him with the sapphire mark.

They turned into a long, dark hallway, walking for a time.

Adolin spoke up again.

“I know that you don’t trust us lighteyes. I know that you’re hurt because of your past. But I want to be a source of support for you.” 

The bridgeman grunted.

“I just need to know why, Kaladin. What have I done to make you treat me like this? What has the last few months been to you if not friendship?”

Kaladin said nothing, but shot an icy glare at the young prince, increasing his pace.

Adolin was getting tired of this. He surged forward and grabbed Kaladin’s arm, pulling him to a stop.

“Kaladi-…”

“Let. Go.” The man growled lowly. Still not facing Adolin.

He yanked against Adolin’s grip, but it was firm.

“No.”

“_Let go of me!_” Kaladin hissed.

“I won’t! Not until you tell me what’s wrong, Kal! We’ve been through so much together! I thought we had grown closer! Why are you acting like this?!” Adolin pleaded.

“Like "this"?” Kaladin said just barely above a whisper, turning slowly to face Adolin.

His face was a snarled map of anger, surprise, and… sadness? Something snapped inside the man.

“Like "**this**"?!” He roared.

Adolin shrank back, letting go of Kaladin’s arm.

Kaladin forcefully wrenched Adolin to the side of the hallway and slammed him against the wall, pinning him to it with hands on his shoulders. Adolin gasped as he hit, his side sword rapping against the wall with a sharp clang.

“Kaladin wha-…?” Adolin was cut off, eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

“You ask me why I’m acting "like this", so I’ll tell you why!” Kaladin was almost shouting, voice strained. “Every person I'm close to **dies**, Adolin Kholin! My men in Amaram’s army, members of bridge four, storming slaves, the parshmen refugees, Elhokar, my brother! They all fucking _**DIED**_!”

He slammed one of his fists into the wall, which shot chips of rock and debris flying everywhere with a powerful ‘crack!‘. The impact shook the wall, splintering a jagged spiderweb of fissures and cracks streaking outwards, inches from Adolin's head. He flinched and cried out. 

He wanted to move back; he wanted to get away from the man's face that was incredibly close to his. Against the wall he could only turn his head and squeeze his eyes shut. 

“I can never keep anyone! I have bridge four, but I can’t let myself get too close with them! Someday I won’t be there for them and they’ll die too! I have to be alone; I don't have a choice! So what do you think it's like?! Hearing you say so casually that I'm your friend when every friend I've ever had is in a grave?!" Kaladin howled, barely taking a breath. 

A strangled noise escaped his throat. His eyes were wild with fury. 

Through squinted, scared eyes, Adolin glanced at the other man and noticed the subtle glow outlining him, indicating that he had been using stormlight. Kaladin had dropped the sapphire mark on the floor, which was now dun. Wisps of stormlight escaped his mouth as he yelled, curling in the air like the steaming hisses that pooled out of the maw of a chasmfiend. 

Ask me why I'm "_like this_" when I can't hold on to anyone for more than two years! Ask me why I'm "_like this_" when I see my brother being run through every time I close my damned eyes! Please, please! **Ask me why I'm like this when I can't even fuCKING FEEL ANYTHING ANYMORE**!" He screamed. 

Adolin paled, flinching at the words. A cacophony of emotions accosted his mind all at once, colliding with each other violently. 

Terror 

Anger 

Misery 

Empathy 

**Guilt**

He only turned to Kaladin and opened his eyes when he heard him speak again, not shouting this time. 

"...I have _nobody_." He sneered; a beastly expression worn on his face. "And I never will. But you would never understand that…” 

“So, princeling,” Kaladin snarled, head bowing between them, his long locks covering his face, “I’m sorry I can’t let people in. I’m sorry I know I can’t be somebody’s ‘close friend’. I’m sorry that I’ve lost everyone I loved because I couldn’t protect them!” 

Kaladin’s breath caught in his throat, blue vapor licking at the corners of his lips. 

“K-…” Adolin didn’t even have a chance to begin this time. 

“I’m sorry that I'm "like this" because I know if you stay with me you'll be killed. I'm sorry that I can't open up to you because I won't be able to protect you… because I'd lose you… becau-... because I…” Kaladin’s voice was quivering, shaky, choking out the last couple words. 

The man was trembling violently. He was taking ragged, desperate breaths; The sound mingling with sharp, gasping whimpers being forced out of his throat. 

_Ash's eyes,_ Adolin managed to realize in his daze, _he’s crying!_

Stormlight was pouring out of him now, escaping his body with the uneven heaving of his chest, forming a fine mist around them. The glow that outlined him diminished rapidly. 

Adolin knew he had to do something, but the thought scared him. The stormlight cloud churned. His brain stuttered, still processing what had just happened. He couldn't think straight. His mind felt clouded, as if the vapor was reaching into him, spiraling, curling, pooling to shroud his thoughts. 

_Move, you fool! Move! Say something, anything!_ Adolin pushed himself from within. The mist still snaked around him. 

He just stood there motionless, dazed. The pitiful whimpers continued as Kaladin maintained his position, propped against the wall and Adolin's head trapped between his arms and the wall. The prince trained his eyes hazily on the bridgeman. He saw droplets falling now. Kaladin had been trying to hold the tears back. They fell onto his uniform with a slight patter. 

Adolin's body moved before he could even process what he was doing. 

He lightly pulled his wrist free from Kaladin's grip with almost no resistance. With slow, unsure movements, he cupped one hand on the back of Kaladin’s head and looped the other under the man’s upraised arm to put on his back. He pulled him close. 

He wasn’t sure why he did it. His body had moved on its own, and for some reason it felt... right. He couldn’t guess what Kaladin’s reaction would be. It was a risky maneuver, but he would walk right into this trap if he needed to. He definitely needed to. His head was much clearer now, firm resolution parting the stormlight and allowing Adolin to do what he needed. 

Kaladin flinched at his touch and tensed in the embrace. The quiet sobbing persisted, echoing into the long, seemingly endless corridor. His head was held stiffly upright, not making contact with Adolin. 

Adolin held his breath. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

_10 heartbeats._

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Adolin felt the tension melt away; muscles relaxing, yet still spasming with every stifled noise. He let go of his breath, relieved. The quiet weeping grew louder as Kaladin's head fell into the crook of his shoulder, with hot, shaky breaths against his skin; tears rolling gently down his neck. The hand that hadn’t smashed the wall fell and tucked under Adolin’s arm, gripping his uniform tightly near the shoulder blade. With a few tugs, Kaladin pried his fist from the indent in the wall and hesitantly wrapped it around the prince's midsection. Lightly at first, hovering, then he squeezed. Kaladin sagged forward, leaning into him more and pressing them both against the wall. Adolin took that as an invitation to hold the man tighter. 

Kaladin's muffled crying wrenched at his heart. He found he was on the brink of tears himself. The prince had never seen such intense sadness from the spearman, even during the moments in Shadesmar. This man was broken, and it pained Adolin. This man was hurting, and he wished he could fix it. Kaladin had been through so much that Adolin could never begin to understand his pain. He didn't understand. The man had always seemed so confident, so relaxed, so sure of himself. But this was more than about what Adolin expected or wanted from him... It was so much more... he realized now that there was a part of Kaladin he had ignored, one that he had chosen to ignore. He felt selfish. A fool. 

How long had all of this been building up in Kaladin without him noticing? How long had he been ignoring Kaladin's feelings? 

They stood there, clutching each other in the dim, desolate hallway. Adolin was softly stroking Kaladin's head, running his fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him. He was still weeping feverishly, heaving in violent breaths and letting out audible sobs. 

Adolin remembered a time when he was young, whenever he was upset or crying, where his mother would cradle him in her arms and whisper softly in his ear. She wouldn't say anything specific, just sweet reassurances. It had always calmed him down. 

For a moment, Adolin hesitated, thinking it was somewhat odd. He couldn't envision himself doing something like that. 

He decided he didn't care. 

He rested his head against Kaladin’s and began to whisper to him. Little things. Nice things. Things that Kaladin needed to hear. Things that Adolin meant from the bottom of his heart. He would not let this man feel alone, feel like he was the cause of all he had suffered. 

_I've got you_

_I have you_

_It's okay, Kal_

_You aren't alone_

_I won't let go of you_

_I want to keep you safe_

_I want to be there for you_

_I'll stay with you_

_I'll share your pain_

_I've got you_

_I've got you_

. 

. 

. 

_ **I love you.** _

. 

. 

. 

He hadn't said that last one out loud. The words flashed through his mind like a stormwall, gone in an instant and leaving his thoughts to the buffeting winds and debris. 

_Wh-...Love?!_

He almost panicked at the intense thought, but he shook himself off mentally before he could process it. He had to focus. 

Adolin stroked Kaladin's head and whispered for a long time. The spearmans' breaths gradually slowed, crying halting along the way, albeit returning in short bursts. Adolin didn't stop murmuring into his ear until he could feel the steady rise and fall of Kaladin's chest pressed against his. Eventually, Kaladin shifted, grip loosening on his jacket. Adolin raised his head, and as did the other man. His face was still cast downward, but Adolin could clearly see his reddened face, streaked cheeks, and his puffy eyes. 

"Hey," Adolin began, voice drawing Kaladin's tired eyes to meet his. The man had cried himself dry. "You're not alone. I won't let you be. If whatever force is out there wills me to die by being with you, then by The Heralds themselves I'll accept the challenge. I will be with you through this, Kaladin Stormblessed. I won't let you be hurt anymore. I'll protect you. And when I die, it's on my terms, not yours." 

Kaladin sniffled and weakly mumbled something that sounded like "Idiot". It wasn't a "no" so Adolin took that as a victory. 

The spearman began to peel himself off of him, still somewhat shaky. Kaladin stepped back -Adolin actually felt himself yearn for the warmth of the embrace when it was gone- and began to try to compose himself, wiping his eyes and sniffling loudly. The man looked rather disheveled and Adolin felt he should help, but he could only think of the thought that had ripped through his mind earlier. 

. 

_I love you._

. 

Those kind of thoughts... those kinds of feelings confused him. He had only ever courted ladies. Where was this coming from? He had socialized with thousands of other men, and he was close with a few but... never like this. He had always attributed his fondness for Kaladin as something akin to a favorite pub-mate or a brother of the sword. 

_Brothers of the sword don't ogle their sparring partner while he's undressing..._ Adolin grimaced. 

That brought along a whole slew of thoughts. Was he simply appreciating Kaladin's features when he stared at him? Or was he _appreciating_ his _features_ when he stared at him? His mind drifted back to traitorous reactions when Kaladin would stretch before sparring, or when he'd rub knobweed butter on his lips after practice, or when he would get the most wonderful look on his face when he succeeded, or how he'd smile lightly at him from across the room during a meeting, or when... These thoughts seemed quite condemning. Or... were they an accident of circumstance? There were hardly any ladies below the age of 30 around the sections of the tower he occupied. Maybe he just missed being with someone? But... had he ever accidentally thought those things about a man before? Damnation, had he ever thought about a _woman_ that way before?! The collective barrage of questions came at him like an army of parshendi... No, more like an army of Thunderclasts... 

The noise of Kaladin trying to speak brought him back to the hallway. 

“I…” He began to say something, voice croaking. 

****

“No,” Adolin said softly, approaching him once more. “You don’t have to say anything more. Let’s go get you cleaned up.” 

****

He put a hand on Kaladin's shoulder and the spearman flinched again. Adolin simply gave him a reassuring squeeze. Kaladin didn't object to his touch, so he turned and led him down the now dark hallway.

****

The sapphire sphere lay amidst the dust and rubble. Dun. Forgotten.

****


	6. A Brief Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features Navani and Dalinar being nerds, some small worldbuilding, and the blackthorn being more keen than he lets on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Sorry its been a while since I uploaded. It's the end of the second week of university and things have been crazy. Yesterday we had not one but TWO fire alarms, one at 3am and I-...  
Anyway, sorry, this is chapter is a little filler-ish but I like to be thorough in story writing. I feel like changing perspectives is refreshing in a story focused on two hopelessly lost axehounds. I intend to skip a lot of detail to get to the dinner scene quickly so I can break this story out of a one day time-frame.

Dalinar was sitting in the common area of the Kholin house chambers, leaning back into one of the large sofas. Navani’s head rested in his lap, supported by a small pillow while she lazily perused a catalogue of blueprints. The woman really did have no qualms about decorum. 

Things had been… boring at the tower recently. Well, Dalinar hardly supposed peace and quiet would be considered boring for most others, but after the enormous confrontation in Theylena Dalinar had expected… more. He had forced the God of Hatred himself into a contest of champions and yet here he was, lounging with his beloved and fancying a thought about what would be for dinner. It was almost unbelievable, but the Voidbringers had all but vanished since the battle, and he hadn’t sensed Odium since their confrontation. 

Dalinar was always on edge; war had trained him to be that way. He itched to move, to fight, to take initiative. But through the stubborn insistence of Navani he had allowed himself to relax recently. Enjoy the lull. 

At the moment, they had no reason to attack the Parshmen around Roshar. Without the Fused following them to instigate them through fear, many had chosen to integrate with the cities and townships they fled to, working with the once captive denizens to rebuild and renew. To Dalinar, this was troublesome, but he could find no reason to deny the Parshmen this freedom after the truth had been revealed that fateful day.

“Dear?” 

Dalinar realized he had been dazed, daydreaming, and the velvet voice below drew him out of his stupor. 

“Dear, I should like to keep my hair attached to my scalp, preferably.” Navani said smoothly, looking up at him from from his lap.

He realized he had started gripping her quite firmly where he was lightly petting her head. He hastily resumed feather light strokes through her black-as-night hair.

“I’m sorry, Gemheart… I was just-“

“Thinking of the state of things, yes.” She finished for him, turning her eyes back to her reading material. “I would request that you remove those troublesome thoughts from your mind until the next High Conference. Or I shall remove them for you.”

Dalinar grunted in a way that somewhat resembled a laugh. Navani probably could remove his thoughts. She had all sorts of terrifying new fabrials.

“And Dalinar?” Her eyes glittered at him just past her catalogue.

That was never good. Her eyes always lit up like that when she was about to do something unpredictable.

“Should you wish to treat me that roughly, I would require that you do so in our own time, and in a place a touch more private.”

“Navani!” Dalinar exclaimed, aghast.

She simply gave him her usual flat stare.

“Merely a musing, dear.” She said dismissively

He sincerely doubted that. Lecherous woman. _His_ lecherous woman, he supposed.

As he was formulating a response to her shenanigans, he heard the wooden door in the entry chamber creak open. A moment later, Adolin walked through the short passageway and entered the main lounge. Dalinar had expected him to return soon, but what he had not expected was to find the young captain in tow. Kaladin looked rather... disheveled

Something happened, Dalinar guessed.

“Hello father, mother.” Adolin smiled warmly at them. 

Dalinar felt Navani’s breath catch when he said that.

_Such a genuine young man_, Dalinar thought, prideful. 

He had never even thought to imply that his sons should refer to Navani as their mother, as he assumed that would be difficult for them. However, he was surprised when Adolin had begun to refer to his former aunt as ‘mother’ on his own, which he was sure made Navani’s heart swell. She cherished Renarin and Adolin like her own children and had yearned for their affection as a motherly figure. It was little things she did that made her love so apparent. She could be a slippery little whitespine around others, but to her family she was soft, considerate, and thoughtful. She even doted on Renarin, who was across the continent on his journey, writing him frequently.

“Sir!” Kaladin gave Dalinar a crisp salute. “And Lady Navani.” He bowed to her as well.

“At ease, Kaladin.” Dalinar said disarmingly, only giving a casual salute in response. “You’re no longer our guard. When you are with us, I am only Dalinar to you. You are my equal in every sense of the word.”

Kaladin’s mouth opened and closed a few times, most likely finding the statement to be unbelievable.

“Uhm… Yes… Okay, Dalinar.” The man said hesitantly.

“Well, it’s good to see you, young man.” Dalinar began. “I understand you’ve been quite occupied with your duties around Urithiru?”

Adolin idly walked over to set a few of his items on the table and the coat hook near the grand bookshelf on the wall.

“Yes, si-“ Kaladin was distracted, watching Adolin intently, but he caught himself. “Yes Dalinar, things have been quite busy with training. The Windrunners aren’t perfect yet, but they’re becoming real soldiers, little by little.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You and your men and women will be a priceless asset for us. Thank you for your hard work.” 

“Thank you. I take great honor in assisting you.” Kaladin said genuinely, yet still with the stiffness of a recruit addressing an officer.

Dalinar was quite thoroughly intrigued at this situation. Adolin never brought _anyone_ to the family housing. A barely noticeable glance at Navani told him that they were on the same page. Was this going to be the breakthrough that they… no, that almost everyone was waiting for? Dalinar intended to find out.

“So,” Dalinar shifted the subject by asking a seemingly innocent question. “to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today?”

Adolin answered rather quickly, speaking before Kaladin could even open his mouth.

“I’ve invited him to dine with us tonight father.” He said curtly, undoing his overcoat and hanging it on the wall. 

“Well it is rather early for dinner, Gloryspren.” Navani chimed in from Dalinar’s lap, eyes never moving from her reading. 

Dalinar couldn’t see Adolin’s face, but he was certain the lad was blushing furiously. Navani had coined small terms of affection for his boys, mostly to tease and embarrass them, but Dalinar knew she did it out of love. He knew his sons liked it too, though they would never admit it.

Kaladin shot a glance towards Adolin over his nickname but said nothing.

“It’s hardly past morning meal.” She continued, face blank but eyes full of relish for her own impishness. “And as far as I’m aware, the young radiant has never been one to idle. Why have you come so early?”

Another cleverly disguised question.

“The plumbing is still being looked at in his wing.” Adolin replied hastily, seeming to grow agitated at the line of questioning. “And our training was rather spectacular today so I offered to let him use our facilities.”

_In your chambers?_ Dalinar noted to himself. He trusted his son wouldn’t do anything brash, but the worry was still there. However it _did_ concern him how strangely the two were acting, especially Kaladin. The lad seemed... sullen. On edge. Even more so than usual. He hoped his son hadn’t been the cause of that...

“The plumbing fabrials in the west quarter?” Navani looked up from her catalogue, finally regarding the two boys. “Why, I had set Rushu on that task yesterday!” She said, profoundly miffed.

“They’re having some trouble with… something…” Kaladin said, clearly not knowing how to explain the problem. “They said the… thing… something isn’t… charging correctly?” His brow was furrowed in concentration, trying to remember what the ardents had told him.

“Oh honestly!” Navani, huffed. “If the Flowrials aren’t charging then obviously the pressure differential in the main pumps has offset or broken the wireframe from extended use. A simple replacement of the ancient fluid chambers with reinforced ones and a soulcast wireframe would solve the issue in half a day! These ardents have been pouring over our discoveries for over a year, but here they are acting like they’ve just begun to stop suckling their own thumbs and wetting themselves!” She ranted, silky voice laced with annoyance.

She glanced around and noticed the far off look on the boys’ faces. 

“Right.” She said curtly, shifting from her position to stand up. “I will go oversee the maintenance personally. Kaladin, dear, it was wonderful seeing you. I hope to enjoy dinner with you tonight.” She nodded towards the man, set her catalogue down on the table and moved briskly towards the entry. 

“Do not be gone overlong, Gemheart!” Dalinar called as she opened and closed the door behind her quite loudly. Dalinar knew better than to suggest she stay, as she was even more of an unyielding beast than himself.

Kaladin stood there awkwardly, looking quite overwhelmed. 

Adolin stepped in to break the silence.

“Right then, we shall be off to my chambers father.” He said, motioning towards the door on the left side of the grand room for Kaladin to enter.

Kaladin began slinking across the room towards the door, wanting to find solitude no doubt.

Dalinar was trying to figure out what had happened between them. Kaladin had been shifting uncomfortably, something the confident man never did, and Adolin had been watching him with a firm, concerned expression. Not an argument... Something had obviously disturbed Kaladin.

“Will you be remaining here for a time?” Adolin asked, watching Kaladin retreat into the room.

“Yes.” Dalinar nodded lightly while picking up a book from the end table. He had begun reading recently thanks to Navani’s tutelage. Thankfully his sons didn’t seem to care. “I fortunately have a rather free day today, so I intend to spend it here researching and working on Oathbringer.”

“Excellent, then I’ll tell you about Kaladin’s training after we’ve made ourselves proper.” 

Adolin made to enter his quarters, but Dalinar stopped him with his voice.

”Adolin.” He said lightly, gently opening the book cover as if afraid it would turn to dust. “I can’t ignore the state of how you both arrived.” 

Adolin stiffened.

“It is not my place to pry into the matters of a grown adult, but something has been troubling the two of you, yes?” He flipped a page in the book.

Adolin didn’t respond, eyes not meeting his, but his expression was all Dalinar needed for confirmation.

“I will not ask for you to disclose the details of your situation, however I have to express my concern for not only you, but Kaladin as well. He is more upset than I have ever seen him outside of battle.” He studied his son closely.

Still no response.

”I know you care for him son. But even so, you must be careful of what you say and do to him. He has been through far, far more than most. More than likely, he has experienced greater emotional trauma than you or I. I’m not pinning anything on you, I just want you to be careful.“

Adolin opened his mouth, then closed it slowly. He looked as if he wanted to say something. Almost desperately. He looked... sad.

”Yes father.” He said firmly, meeting Dalinar’s eyes. “Thank you father.”

And with that, Adolin walked towards the door Kaladin had disappeared into moments before.

“Oh, and son?” Dalinar said, eyes glancing over from the page he had been looking for.  


Adolin stopped and met his father’s gaze again.

“Do keep it proprietous, for now.” 

Adolin recoiled violently, looking at his father incredulously. Dalinar merely kept his face flat. Unreadable. 

Dalinar knew. Of course he _knew_ about their feelings. He was horrible with handling emotions and yet even **he** could see it so clearly. It was so obvious, what with how they acted around each other. He was almost as frustrated as Navani at the young men. They were both just so… _reserved_… with their emotions. As much as he wanted to just say what everyone was thinking, Dalinar kept quiet about the situation. But now his son was bringing the lad to his quarters, and not as a guard. Saying something was inevitable.

“F-… Father it’s not…” But he trailed off.

Dalinar was already set to reading his book. Adolin would have a difficult time getting Dalinar to speak now.

“We’ll talk later.” Adolin said, then rushed through the door.


	7. A Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaladin is struggling hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I apologize for the large gap between uploads. Working on two and a half majors is crazy as always. Lots of family issues on the side, but here I am. This chapter has been a roadblock for me because I have a lot to resolve in the setting of one day.

Kaladin entered Adolin's bedchamber more flustered than he had been when he arrived. It was bad enough that he had had an outburst in front of Adolin, but now Dalinar had seen him looking worse than a soldier after a night on the moss. He was beginning to think that this day would never end. He groaned and put a hand to his forehead. It was throbbing.

The sound of Adolin entering made him look up. He looked worried, for the same reasons that Kaladin might have been, he assumed.

Adolin closed the door hurriedly behind him and then turned to look at Kaladin. He wanted to say something. He wanted to clarify his outburst in the hallway earlier, but as he opened his mouth to speak Adolin began instead. 

“Kal, I know that you must be feeling a lot right now. Go get cleaned up first. If you want to talk about anything after you’ve cleared your head, we can do it then.” 

Kaladin wanted to argue. He wanted to get all of this cleared up right now, but he knew Adolin was right this time

“Okay.” He said weakly, looking downward. 

Adolin approached him lightly. Saying nothing, he placed a hand on top of Kaladin’s head, brushing aside the hair hanging in front of Kaladin’s face with his thumb. He slid it down the side of his head, cupping his face; an extremely familiar and intimate gesture.

Kaladin’s instincts made him want to bat the man’s hand away. He didn’t want to be in this situation. He didn’t want for someone to know what he was feeling. Storms, he didn’t want to have these feelings. He was storming mad. Not necessarily at Adolin… But definitely at himself.

He awkwardly pulled away and turned from the princeling, avoiding his eyes. Kaladin moved past all of the lavish upholstery, furniture, and paraphernalia in Adolin’s chambers to slink to the showering room through a door. He didn’t want to hurt Adolin any more than he already had, but he just couldn’t stand how much he was _feeling_. He made a great effort not to look back at him.

As he entered the showering room, he could immediately tell that this was one made for a prince for sure. The plumbing was the same as every showering room, of course, but this one had a large bathtub centered right in the middle of the room. Numerous sphere lanterns lined the wall, bathing the room in a mottled blue-green glow. Fluffy white towels hung from polished rods on the wall, which had probably been imported from Shinovar; the plush material was gathered from bizarre white creatures that seemed to grow it like hair. There was a washbasin in the back of the room, surrounded by a few small tables filled with soap bars and petite bottles of what he could assume were colognes. Atop shelves lining the washbasin’s grand mirror, rows of assorted shampoos and soaps sat in bottles made of crystal or colored glass in all shapes and sizes. There had to have been over thirty things on those damned shelves alone.

_All of this for just one man?_ Kaladin grumbled to himself.  
He hardly thought anyone would need to be that clean, even Adolin himself. The thought of all of this was ridiculous to him. The main crew of bridge four used 3 communal showering rooms, along with three private ones for the women, and they all just used soaps dug out of a communal bin they had. It did the job well, and no one ever complained. But this… this was just excessive.

He shuffled his way over to the far side of the rectangular room, where the proper showering spouts would most likely be. In the back near the washbasin, he found a single alcove with not one, not two, but four showering spouts all pointed towards the center of the booth. Ridiculous…

He didn’t linger on any thoughts, though. He desperately wanted to cleanse himself of the day. He wanted to wash the emotions away and forget what had happened. After quickly undressing himself and tossing his clothing aside to the floor, he turned the fabrial nozzle on the wall to its hottest setting and let the spray of water from the spout overtake him. Kaladin stood, water nearly scalding his skin, waiting for his mind to drift to emptiness. He couldn’t escape his thoughts so easily. Almost as hot as the water, his emotions raged inside of his head powerfully. He let out a defeated moan and slid down the wall, curling up when he hit the stone floor. He sat there on the floor, head thrumming, hair clinging to his face, and cried for the second time that day.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Kaladin roused from slumber in a plush bed that was most certainly not his own. 

_Wh-… Wha?_ His mind was fuzzy, groggy… But he was warm.

He was comfortable. With a drowsy sigh he felt himself drifting off, drawing more of the warmth over his head.

.

.

.

.

His eyes snapped open as his instincts kicked in, shooting up to a sitting position as he tried to remember where he was. Kaladin blinked blearily as his eyes unfuzzed, greeted with the sight of Adolin sitting in a chair across from him... Did that mean…?

He looked around and saw that he was indeed in the middle of the Prince’s far-too-large bed.

“Ah, you’re up.” Adolin cooed from behind the fashion book he was reading (a skill that Navani had pressured him to learn). “I was worried when I found you in there. Get a good rest?”

Kaladin opened and closed his mouth. Last he remembered he was having a showering, letting the hot water pour over him and... and then…

…and then he had fallen asleep. On the floor of the showering room. His face grew hot.

“You… put me here? What do you mean you found me?” Kaladin grew a bit frantic in his head. 

“Well, you were in there for little over an hour. When you wouldn’t respond to my calls, I was a bit worried. I saw you laying there. I thought something had happened, but…” He trailed off and closed the book, setting it on the table next to his chair.

Kaladin frantically pulled back the duvet he was laying under. He was wearing nothing but a simple white washroom tunic. He thought his face might explode.

“Why didn’t you just wake me?!” He exclaimed.

“Well I tried but all I got was a lashed soap container to the face!” Adolin pointed to a small bruise towards the side of his cheek near his temple. “And I couldn’t just leave you there, your skin was practically transparent.”

Kaladin sunk back down into the bed, covering his face with his hands. He wanted to die of embarrassment. Maybe he should just crawl back into the shower and drown.

After a long pause, Adolin spoke up.

“Well, regardless Kal, dinner is pretty soon, so we should start getting ready.” He stood up, moving to his dresser in a loosely tied white tunic like Kaladin wore.

“Dinner? But its still not even midday!” 

“Kal… you were asleep for a few hours.” Adolin gave him a frank look.

“A few _hours_?!” He sprung up out of the bed. 

He hurriedly moved towards the entrance of the showering room, but noticed his clothes stacked neatly on a chair by the princeling’s dresser. He stopped.

“Oh, I washed your clothes while you were sleeping, I hope you don’t mind.”

Kaladin almost died from shame then and there. 

He snatched his clothes and made his way opposite of Adolin, back towards the Prince, and quickly dressed himself. He could almost feel steam rising off of his face when he realized that, indeed, his underclothes had been washed.

When he turned around Adolin was sliding his shirt on in undoubtedly the most lecherous way possible. Kaladin left the washrobe on another small table and hurried past Adolin to stand awkwardly by the door until he finished dressing. 

The prince trudged over after a few moments and looked at Kaladin with a cocked head. 

“Um, Kal… your hair…” Adolin pressed his lips together in an effort to stifle a laugh.

Kaladin reached up to touch his hair, and realized it was tangled and jutting out in every direction. He was going to scream.

“It’s ok, I’ll fix it for you.” The princeling chuckled and padded towards the washroom.

Kaladin let out a heavy sigh and deflated into one of the nearby chairs. He just couldn’t catch a break today.


	8. A Flash of Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasnah is a mom. She does whatever the fuck she wants. Watch out. Here she comes. You may hug her. Once.  
This is a slice of life sitcom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is the end of this horrid 'one day' setup I did (maybe a brief walk home in the next chapter). I really enjoyed writing Jasnah's character, but it might be a tiny bit ooc???? I tried to make her loving, cold, logical, and straightforward all at once but idrk. More interesting plot in the future babes I promise I just had to end this day scenario asap

Jasnah was displeased. 

Her family, as lovely as they were annoying, had clearly told her that the meal with the Windrunner was to be half past second evening bell. It was currently second evening bell. Honestly, where was her family’s sense of propriety? If no one was to uphold the etiquette of arriving before the meal began, then there might as well be no etiquette at all.

She huffed and made her way to the head of the table where Dalinar usually sat. 

_If I am to be the first to arrive, then I shall be the first to seat myself._ She thought, asserting her right to the position.

She poised herself in the chair, straightened her back and stuck out her chin royally at no one in particular. She was the Queen. She would have whatever seat she desired. 

Her musings were interrupted by the side door to the grand banquet hall squeaking open. She turned to see Adolin and the Windrunner enter, looking rather contrasted if she were to be honest. Adolin was put together as always, hair coiffed, smile wide, but the other man, although neatly dressed, just looked… exhausted.

“Hello Jas!” He beamed as he approached her.

She _hated_ that nickname… but there was little she could do to say ‘no’ to her beloved stepbrothers.

She stood up to greet him with a queen’s curtsy, only to be engulfed in a tight embrace from the young man. 

“Erm… Hello Adolin.” She was caught off guard to say the least. She awkwardly folded her arms around him and patted his shoulders lightly. She casted a pleaful look towards Kaladin, who only shrugged.

Adolin pulled back slightly, keeping a hand on her shoulder. “How go the queenly duties? Are you bored yet?”

“Everything is in sufficient order, child. I am glad to see you are… well.”

Kaladin strode towards Jasnah and gave an incredibly crisp bow. “Queen Jasnah, it is an honor as always.”

“Young man, cease your groveling and stand up. I have told you on many occasions only to refer to me as Jasnah.” She snapped at him. “I will not have respect given to me because of an honorific. I demand it through actions.”

Kaladin straightened from his bow stiffly. “Y-yes Jasnah.”

“Well enough of that, sit.” She gestured towards the table. 

Adolin gave her a sideways look when she took a seat in Dalinar’s chair. 

“I have much to pry from you both this evening. Do not allow yourself to believe that because this was introduced as a casual family dinner that I will treat it as such. I agree to all events and banquets with a purpose.”

Adolin groaned as he chose a spot to the left of Jasnah, where Kaladin took the seat next to him.

Jasnah was about to discipline the young prince for his unwillingness when the main door to the room opened. Dalinar and Navani walked side-by-side through the door, the stone-faced man’s brow furrowed as he listened to something her mother was propositioning him with.

“All I’m saying is that the Ardents could use a little hard manual labor to really get them to appreciate their positions.”

“Gemheart, surviving in the mountains is hardly manual labor…” Dalinar rumbled with exasperation.

“Oh, but it _can_ be.”

“But what would we gain other than being shorthanded?”

“Ardents who are grateful to work on what we tell them to! Honestly dear, have you ever heard of Ardents telling their masters ‘no’ before now?”

They neared the table, still going back and forth. 

Without so much as giving Jasnah a second glance, her stepfather distractedly addressed her. “Oh, Jasnah dear, would you relinquish that chair to me? I’ve become a creature of habit as of late and quite prefer that position.” He turned to refute something outlandish Navani had said.

“Of course, Dalinar.” She said almost too quickly. 

Before she realized it, she was seated in the second furthest chair from the head, across from the Windrunner.

_Damnation..._ She scowled. _I still can’t resist that man… How humiliating._

“But dear, just think about how much better off we’ll be with-“ She stopped as Dalinar raised a hand to ask for quiet, giving her a wink and a grin.

“Hello again Kaladin. You look well rested.” Dalinar addressed the boy with a firm gaze, settling in his seat.

The captain flushed.

“Yes sir. I was quite fatigued after the sparring session, as you saw. I was able to take a small rest.”

“Yes.” Dalinar said with a raised eyebrow. “You did seem rather tired earlier. I am glad you were able compose yourself properly.”

Jasnah noticed something, a tension, flicker between everyone else at the table. She looked back and forth between the others, then narrowed her eyes. These people knew about something that she didn’t… 

She **hated** that. 

She noticed Kaladin share a rather long look with Adolin.

“Well,” Navani began. “We’d love to hear about this match that you keep mentioning!” 

As she said that, a stream of serving women brought out bountiful trays of food to set out onto the table.

“Of course, Lady Navani. I-” Kaladin started.

“Oh,” Jasnah said, cutting in while motioning one of the servants over. “so that nasty bruise on dear Adolin’s face was your doing? Had a little fun in our bout, did we?”

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed something flash across the two boys’ faces. 

Panic.

After nearly grabbing a servant girl by the arm, the one who was carrying a particularly fragrant men’s curry, she continued. 

“Please, do make sure to include how you managed to bruise the dear boy _again_. After last week’s debacle I would have assumed you had learned some _restraint_.”

“_Jasnah_!” Navani swatted her daughter lightly on the shoulder, safehand in front of her mouth in dismay.

Jasnah only sniffed, relieving the servant girl of her tray quite forcefully and setting it near her side of the table for easier access.

“I… Yes, well… uh…” Kaladin stuttered. He kept glancing between Adolin and Dalinar as if to ask for support.

Dalinar huffed. “Jasnah means nothing of it, lad. That’s just her way of saying she’s interested in your bout.” He shot a piercing glare in her direction.

She was too busy surveying which bowl she could pilfer from next.

As Kaladin began to ease up, they served themselves while he recounted the day’s match. Jasnah listened very intensely to the man as he spoke, trying to read into the rather bizarre mood. She snatched the serving platter of men’s roasted chicken as Adolin reached for it, helping herself, much to his annoyance. She would get what she wanted, one way or another.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

The dinner was rather uneventful, thankfully. Kaladin wouldn’t know what to do with any more surprises. It was good to catch up with Dalinar, Navani, and Jasnah, even if the latter looked at him as if he was the dust she walked upon. That meant she liked him, Adolin had told him. Instead of being invisible to her, he was merely seen as insignificant; a coveted position in her standing.

As dinner came to a close, Navani and Dalinar bid their farewells to everyone and retreated back to the main chambers of the Kholin wing. 

Jasnah sat regally with her after-dinner tea perched on a saucer in front of her, eyes closed. Kaladin sat in a rather painful silence, avoiding eye contact with Adolin next to him. 

After what seemed like an eternity, she opened her eyes and addressed Adolin firmly. “Dear child, I have enjoyed our time together as always. Seek me out for tea within the week and we shall talk of more personal matters if you wish, or we may idly talk about your current interests. For now, however, you will leave the Windrunner and I for a moment.”

“Leave? Oh, but Jas, I was going to walk Kal ho-“ 

“Leave us, child.” She said again, softly but with authority. There was no anger in her tone, only finality.

Kaladin felt himself begin to sweat.

“Right… okay… I guess I’ll wait in the sitting room Kal.”

He nodded goodbye to Jasnah and shuffled morosely out the door. Kaladin’s eyes followed him as he moved, only snapping back to the woman when he was out of sight.

Jasnah turned her attention to Kaladin. She said nothing. He shifted as her pale violet stare bore into his soul. He hoped this would be over quickly.

.

.

.

.

.

“You love him.”

He slammed his head down on the table. Jasnah’s teacup rattled.

“Well. Certainly not the reaction I was expecting.”

He could hear her pick up her cup and saucer. He let out a rather childish groan of frustration then sat up and slouched back into his chair.

“Oh come now child don’t be dramatic. I see how you two interact.” She sipped her tea gracefully, noiselessly.

“Why. Why this? Why **now**?” He pleaded, more to himself than to Jasnah.

“Stop your blathering and speak your mind.”

Kaladin looked at her with a wilted expression. It took a few heartbeats to gather up the will to respond.

“Jasnah, it’s been a rough day. Do we have to do this…?” 

“Absolutely.” She set down her cup. “Observing you two faffing about while clearly struggling with inner turmoil is just pitiful. I will resolve this issue.”

“Jasnah… Do you even understand what you’re saying? I’m not sure I even _know_ what I feel for Adolin. I mean… Adolin is… he’s…” Kaladin stumbled over his words, intentionally avoiding the queen’s scrutinizing look.

“He’s a man.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Well, I mean… there’s not anything wrong with that, I guess, but… I just… I can’t…” He drooped further down in his seat.

“Kaladin, I’m begging you; I cannot be the only one emotionally and mentally present in this discussion. Please, straighten your back and look at me like an adult.”

He did so without question.

“Tell me child, would you consider it a detriment to yourself that Adolin is a man?” She softened her expression and calmly addressed him.

That soft look usually meant she had a point she was about to ram home. He bounced his leg under the table anxiously.

Noting a look of mild confusion on his face, she rephrased her question. “If you could choose to turn Adolin into a female at this very moment, would you? Would you approach him differently?”

_I’m not really approaching this situation at all… _

He was rather shocked at such a question, but shook his head. “No, of course not. Adolin needs to be Adolin. Having him change would just be wrong. I don’t have any issue with men being together, either... I mean, Drehy has a husband; It may be outside the norm but there’s never been anything wrong about it in Alethkar. But I don’t… I don’t really think the problem is because he’s a man or whatever else, It’s just …” His words trickled off.

He was just about to talk about the past again. Storms but this woman was dangerous. She could get you to tell her your darkest secrets without even asking… He was being outmaneuvered before this conversation even began.

She leaned forward, looking through every barrier he had ever built around himself.

“It’s because you’re afraid of losing him.”

He paused, then nodded weakly, eyes downcast. Anger or frustration would get him nowhere here. 

“But it goes further than that, Kaladin. It is not that you’re simply afraid. It seems that you fear others _knowing_ that you’re afraid. While fearing the mistakes of your past is a reasonable, albeit unpragmatic concern, brushing others away as if they were specks of crem simply because you fear said mistakes is pure selfishness.”

He winced at the weight of the last statement.

She continued on. “I mean really Kaladin, think about it. Such a logical fallacy. Pardon the graphic simulacrum, but if Adolin were to fall to tragedy this very day, how would he feel about you in his final moments based on your current interactions? Happy?  
Hurt? Confused?”

He was struggling to see where this was going.

“I-… I’m not sure?” He muttered, trying to read meaning into her words.

She sighed. “What I wish to bring to light is your incessant desire to avoid relationships because of past tragedies, all for the sake of preserving your own peace of mind, while continuously ignoring the impact it has on the people who wish to be closest to you. Often times you speak to me of wanting to distance yourself from others to ‘protect’ them, but who are you really protecting? If Adolin’s final thoughts were of confusion and sadness, then what good does any of your nasty behavior do?”

He was starting to understand. Damnation, she was wickedly smart… He could feel the storm in his mind bubbling up again…

“Relationships are mutually beneficial. You are better to have treated someone lovingly, to whatever end, than to have hurt their hearts intentionally. How many have you estranged from yourself simply because it was convenient to not be engaged? I understand that you have suffered in your past, far more than I will ever come to know, but you are now a new man. You have the freedom to be who you want to be, and no one will stop you other than yourself. So I suggest, consider the feelings of others openly. Life will be difficult, there will be tragedies, but you cannot face everything alone.”

What she was saying pierced right through him. It was callous, it was coldhearted, it made him ache, but he needed to hear it. The weight of the day welled up inside of him once more.

Here, in front of the queen herself, the heretic Jasnah Kholin, Kaladin wept when he thought his tears were long since spent. Tumultuous, rumbling, rolling emotions hit him for what felt like the thousandth time that day. He thought he was going to shatter into pieces. He hadn’t had these many feelings in the span of _months_ before. Until this disgusting, ruthless, yet necessary day.

Having crossed her arms after her speech, content with the one-sided debate, Jasnah slightly recoiled when she noticed the Windrunner feebly crying in his chair.

“Child?”

She lost her regal nonchalance in an instant. After swiftly making her way to Kaladin’s side, she knelt down to look at him. 

“Child, by all means, if offense has been taken then do let me know. A young ward of mine taught me that I can prod too far on occasion…” She said, hesitantly placing a hand on his arm.

This was a gesture, of which Kaladin made note of later, that was highly unusual for Jasnah. She was stingy with contact, and thought compassion was a sign of weakness.

“No…” He whimpered. “No, you’re right…”

He sniffed and coughed lightly, then continued.

“I know I shouldn’t be like this. I don’t want to be like this. I just can’t stop myself…”

“Nonsense.” She interjected softly. “You stopped an impossibly more petulant Amaram. As far as I’m concerned you could stop nearly anything you please.”

Kaladin gave a weak smile and half chuckle while sniffling.

“Kaladin, I can clearly tell that my dear stepbrother is very much interested in you, whether the fool understands it yet or not. Assuredly, Adolin is very strong and self-reliant, but he is an extremely emotional man. I will not be pleased if you toy with him because you have doubts of yourself.” She ducked her head lower to meet his eyes at that.

He nodded, expression becoming somber as he calmed down.

She stood up, queenly robes swirling around her. She was truly a sight to behold; the deep purple gown and raiments seemed only to add to her presence, if that was even possible.

She glided away from Kaladin, moving towards the entrance leading to her wing of the city. Before she opened the door, she paused, speaking as she faced forward.

“I do not wish to force you to pursue something you do not want. Your intentions are not so linear as for me to predict them. Think about what I have said today, that is all I ask. Adolin is not an obligation to you, but his feelings are. Be careful.”

And with that, she left; a sea of purple trailing behind her. Kaladin sighed breathily and began to compose himself for the third time that day.


	9. Windspren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short little tidbit for a preface to the setting change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well it's been a while, huh? This has been a huge block for me but babey i'm back.

Kaladin hung in the air above the clouds, limbs outstretched and facing the sky as if he were laying on the grass. Syl alighted around him, twirling and sliding on an invisible stage mimicking an Edgedancer, giggling all the while. He had been training some troops with Skar but took to the sky for some air when he saw how well the man was taking charge of things. He’d lost track of how long he’d been up in the clouds.

His sparring sessions had been taking a real toll on him, physically _and_ mentally. Two weeks had passed since the excruciatingly humiliating day with Adolin, and every waking moment was filled with constant reminders of his embarrassing outbursts. If there had been tension between them when they fought before, then Kaladin had certainly tripled the feeling now. Words were barely spoken between the two, and Adolin was relentlessly holding back when sparring, pulling hits as if he was made of glass. Kaladin was usually fine with some quiet, but now he dreaded every second of awkward silence he had to endure with the prince. Every second during training felt like a day, and the days felt like years. Funny how time seemed slow to a crawl when there was someone you desperately want to avoid. 

Syl began to twirl in place, balancing on the point of one foot and spinning round and round. She spun until she pretended to get dizzy, teetering and eventually losing her balance, stumbling out of the twirl.

He just couldn’t even bear to think about what he did that day. He’d broken far too many boundaries he set for himself. He’d acted childish, overemotional, and worst of all, weak. 

Kaladin dug the palms of hands against his eyes, as if rubbing there would relieve his mental fatigue. He groaned, frustrated. 

_Why can’t stormlight heal stupidity?_ He thought despairingly.

“Because it’s all in your head, silly!” A sharp voice replied in his head.

He’d gotten rather used to Syl intruding on his internal brooding lately.

“Stupidity is in the head, Syl? What a revelation. I’m cured.” He said out loud. 

He lifted his hands from his eyes, coming face to face with the petite blue spren hovering in a sitting position directly above his nose. 

“I was talking about your insecurities. You don’t have to be so _rude_ about it.” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow indignantly. 

Recently her reactions to his quips had morphed from childish to mature. It was more difficult for him to handle the latter…

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, all those things you beat yourself up over are just in your head. You can’t be emotionless all the time. It’s bad for your mind. Trust me, I would know, I’m in there a **lot**.” She said, almost triumphantly.

“Please don’t read my mind Syl, we’ve talked about this…” Kaladin grumbled.

“Yes, we _have_ talked about the Nahel bond, and how I can’t help but know what you know. We’re connected, Kaladin. I can’t just stop being connected to you.” She floated down until she stood tiptoe’d on the tip of his nose. “So when you can’t stop thinking about Adolin, I can’t stop thinking about him too. You gotta do something about that soon, Kaladin, I just wanna be free to pinch and trip people without having to think about that beautiful, gorgeous hunk of man…” 

He tried to snatch her with his hand, but when he grabbed where she was, she just floated through his skin, incorporeal.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you felt that way about him, Syl.” He snapped. 

It was tiring having a personal voidbringer that snooped into his private life.

“Hey, Nahel bond, remember?” She giggled as he tried to snatch her out of the air again to no avail. “I’m just a silly little windspren. They’re your thoughts, not mine.” 

He knew better than to let her get a rise out of him, so he opted to forget she ever said that.  
Just as she was about to dig in deeper with another witty comment, he canceled out his lashings all at once. 

He fell. He let himself plummet. He wanted to feel the wind buffet his body before he had to face life again down below. The cold air whipping around him and the feeling of weightlessness helped him forget everything for just a brief moment. 

He wished he could become a silly little windspren. Maybe life would be a bit easier, then.


	10. Drizzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter I had sitting in my drafts for a month. I decided I'd post it because a content drought is worse than content I'm unsure of. I'll probably edit/update this chapter as I go.

For what was probably the first time in his military career, Kaladin really needed a drink. After finishing up training on the plateau, Sigzil reassured him that the evening rounds would be taken care of by him and Rock, leaving the night open for him. He slipped out of the barracks after the evening meal and headed towards the entertainment ward. He’d been to a few winehouses and bars before in his life, but under the codes of honor he had never allowed himself to become intoxicated. The thought of being drunk wasn’t appealing to him anyway; At least not until now. 

He mosied through the streets of the lively upper balcony district, where the atmosphere was friendly, welcoming, and amicable. Syl puffed in and out of view among the crowds, flickering over a group of people to listen and giggle at something they said before puffing away to the next curiosity. Stalls lined the streets selling baked goods and street foods –though he couldn’t see any chauta being sold– and small cliques of mates joked and laughed with drinks in hand at communal tables. He had to admit, the sights and smells did wonders as a distraction from Ado-. 

Kaladin blinked and the thought was gone.

He finally found the tavern he had been looking for tucked behind some of the pop-up tents housing more temporary vendors. 

“The Fox’s Paw”

Lynn had told him about it. Evidently this was one she frequented because of its strange selection of alcohol. 

The average sized darkwood building had a few outdoor tables and two wide doors that were bolted open to let the cool night air in. The small sign hanging above the door had a bizarre creature –what he assumed was a “fox”– painted with brilliant orange skin, a head that seemed to long and narrow to be real, and a pair of triangular multicolored horns above its two slanted eyes. He’d have Syl remind him to ask Jasnah what a Fox was the next time they had tea…

The wood creaked softly under his boots as he sat down on the bar bench, which alerted the barmaid fiddling with a cupboard a few steps away. The tavern was quiet enough that you could hear the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the low humming and strumming of the minstrel in the corner; who Kaladin glared at wearily multiple times on his way in for fear that he might start harassing him with magic smoke. 

“Hey there darlin’. Haven’t seen your face ‘round here. What can I getchu’?” The barmaid asked in a thick drawl that Kaladin couldn’t quite identify. She was young and had a sharp angular face framed by brown hair. Her eyes glinted in the candlelight and he could see a dusting of freckles across her nose.

“I uh… don’t drink very often. What do you have?” He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, keeping his voice low. It wasn’t like an army man to not know his liquor.

She chuckled lightly and moved in conspiratorially, “Darlin’ I think you’d best be askin’ what it is we _don’t_ have.” She winked a golden eye at him.

She reached back to unhook a small latch on the wooden panel of the shelf behind her and slid it open. Inside were countless bottles; a rainbow of colors, assorted scratched off and faded labels among pristine and expensive looking bottles. A few even glowed faintly like spheres.

She beemed at Kaladin’s awed expression.

“You act like seeing that is supposed to help me make a choice!” He scoffed, eyes still scanning the shelf. 

Was that a bottle with a firespren inside of it?

She belted out a laugh and gave him a smug look. “Sorry darlin’, just can’t help seein’ Alethi get all confused when they see there’s more’n 3 types o’ liquor on Roshar. Lemme help you narrow it down. You want sweet? Spicy? Sour? Strong enough to punch your teeth out? What can you afford?”

He hesitated. “…Sweet, but still strong. Is there one like that? I don’t have a price limit, but not too expensive.” Truth was, he hated the spicy taste of Alethi’s masculine drinks. To him they just tasted like you were licking dirt. Dirt that had been under a campfire, more like.

With lightning speed she snatched a pale purple bottle out of the cupboard and pulled out two smaller jars from the shelf under the counter. She measured and stirred and mixed with blinding hand movements; A skillful display almost like a performance. Like swordplay. Within a minute she clunked down a glass in front of him with a swirling green and purple liquid in it.

He gawked

“Well? ‘Ya gonna just stare at ‘er all night or ‘r ya gonna drink?”

He’d never seen anything like it. Usually drinks were just poured from kegs or bottles and drunk right away. 

Kaladin noted her eager expression and hesitantly picked up the glass to raise to his lips.  
“It’s cold!” He exclaimed, the liquid barely touching his lips before pulling away in shock.

“There’s ice in it Darlin’, ’course it’s cold.”

Ice in a drink? He remembered Rock chilling a drink he had attempted to give Bridge Four one time but putting ice in a drink was just outlandish!

But… he was here for distractions, so he threw his notions aside.

The first sip was an experience like he’d never had before. No bitterness, no burning, no burnt wood smell, just… fresh air. Sweet, fragrant, and complex. He couldn’t even identify what he was tasting, it was all too foreign. The smell reminded him of something Shallan had tried to get him to eat once, something women ate frequently apparently. Jam. Was this fruit? But Alethi fruit wines had a foul bitter taste. He’d assumed that fruit in general tasted just as bad.

“Awww, sorry darlin’. Didja break?”

“What is this?” He shook his head, savoring the aftertaste. “I mean… what am I tasting?”

“Rainberry wine with a few special mix-ins. Specialty back south o’ th’ purelake where I’m from. Tickles th’ tongue don’t it?”

He could only nod as he took another pull. This might be dangerous for him. It was just… so good. Why hadn’t he started drinking sooner?

“Well ’m glad ya like it. Pay up before ya leave, an’ I’ll leave ya here ta’ go help the rest of th’ hoard. Holler for ‘Yebia’ n’ I’ll come runnin’.”

And with that she bustled off to a table across the room. 

His glass was rather tall, but less than a minute had passed and he had already downed half the drink. At this pace he’d be unconscious within the hour. As he sipped, he closed his eyes and adjusted his stool so he could lean harder on the countertop. He pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind and took in the sounds around him, almost meditating. The crackling of the hearth mingled with the soft murmurs and chuckles of friends huddled close together in booths and couches, softening the atmosphere. He’d been in rowdy bars before, and although roughness was often a sign of friendliness, he much preferred the quiet and humble attitude of the tavern. He needed this change of scenery, he admitted.

“You have to turn yer’ stormlight off if you really wanna get there, son.”

Kaladin’s eyes snapped open at the gruff voice that piped up next to him. It was… familiar.

He had been so absorbed by how new everything was that he had failed to see the man sitting merely two seats away from him at the bar. 

Oh.

He’d recognize that eyepatch anywhere.

“Gaz?”

“Yer’ light, it eats the alcohol. You won’t be forgettin’ nothing with that glow about you.” The man was slouched, elbow propped on the counter with his hand under his chin, other fingering a large tankard in front of him. He was looking off to the side avoiding Kaladin’s stare.

It was true, he had been storing some residual stormlight out of habit. Not enough for anybody who wasn’t looking for it to notice, though. Kaladin let it out with a small exhale, watching it puff away and disperse in front of him.

All he wanted was some peace and quiet. He wasn’t here to fight with Gaz or make small talk, but…

“Since when did you become an expert on stormlight?”

“Soon as a little invisible troublemaker started following me around. Same as you I reckon.” He answered flatly, still looking at something apparently very interesting across the room.

Kaladin sat up straight in surprise. He wasn’t sure he heard that correctly.

“No… you? Wait, you really…?” 

He had heard that Shallan’s main guard… whose name he couldn’t remember… the grumpy one (grumpier than Gaz?), had ascended to Knighthood but… Gaz?

He would’ve laughed had he not seen a small undulating form by where Gaz’s hand met his cup. Barely visible. It was constantly shifting, raising the surface of the tankard like an infinitely changing set of waves and impossible lines. He’d almost mistook it for the tankard’s wooden grain. It reminded him of…

“Pattern.” Kaladin said dumbfounded.

“Hush.” Gaz said shyly, moving his hand away from the cup. 

“I’m speaking softly enough.”

Gaz looked at him sideways.

“His name. It’s Hush. Shallan’s little one is Pattern.”

Kaladin paused. The form slid down the mug and onto the counter before gliding over to where Kaladin’s drink was sitting. 

”Hush here hasn’t really gotten past the mindless spren phase yet... He just sort of...” Gaz trailed off as he scratched at his eyepatch aimlessly. 

“_SsSsssSsSSsSSsHUSH!_” A gravelly voice from the pattern made his cup vibrate against the counter.

Kaladin stared at the Cryptic, dumbfounded. He picked up his glass and finished off his drink in one go. 

“Well let’s just say he likes to make a lot of racket.” Gaz said rather fondly 

“Yebia?” Kaladin shouted, still not taking his eyes off the shifting form. “Another drink, please!”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several drinks later and a rather long, awkward silence, Kaladin spoke.

“Why hasn’t it healed? Your eye?” He caught himself sneering at the man.

Gaz looked up and looked at him mutely.

“Same reason yer' slave brands haven’t either I suppose, son. It ain’t time for me to receive that blessing…”

Kaladin instantly regretted his tone. Gaz had sworn the oaths, didn’t that at least testify to his merit?

“Lad, I… I’m sorry. See, in the camps… I was-“

“Don’t.”

Gaz shriveled back at Kaladin’s firm voice.

“It wasn’t who you are. I know. But there are still scars that a few pretty words can’t fix. When I see you, I see the deaths of my friends. I came here tonight to escape everything. If you talk, then make sure it’s not about the past; not about the warcamps.”

He relaxed. Nodding and taking a pull from his tankard, he mumbled an, “Aye.” 

After a few heartbeats he hesitantly spoke up.

“You… You uphold the code of honor. Even when faced with certain death you never turned to drink or other… distractions. Why are you here?”

“Gaz… I said I wanted to escape. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“_SssSshhuuuuUUuUuuuUUUUsh!_” Hush buzzed excitedly from where he had been hiding under Kaladin’s glass. He yelped in surprise and sloshed some of his drink on the counter.

Yebia regarded him curtly from further down the long bar table, noting the mess.

“Sorry… he uh… does that when someone lies.” Gaz said sheepishly, scratching aimlessly at his eyepatch.

Kaladin sighed deeply and rested his face into the palm of his hands. Was this the alcohol or was he really about to tell Gaz why he was here? 

He felt an unusual warmth in his gut. He rested his head on the counter, forehead down and eyes closed, sighing again.

.

.

.

“Gaz... have you ever been in love…?” 

_What am I doing? This man tortured me… and here I am chatting about love like a drunken fool…_

“…Ah.”

Kaladin almost got up to leave out of shame but Gaz spoke again.

“Aye, son. I have.”

It was silent for a minute.

“Before…” 

He hesitated. 

“Before the camps, I had a lady. Pretty as can be. Almost started a family together. But I… My… gambling problem cost me everything. Got mixed up with the wrong folks. Before they took me away, they had her killed right in front of me…”

More silence. Kaladin turned his head from where it was resting to look at Gaz. The man’s face was blank. He knew that look. 

That was the look of trauma so heavy that you could no longer feel because of it. When everything was your fault and you could never do anything to fix it.

Kaladin suddenly felt guilty. Did Gaz really deserve such harsh treatment?

“I… I knew it was my fault that she died. For the years I worked in slavery afterwards I never forgave myself. I took it out on poor souls like you because I knew I was a wretch... but…”  
Gaz’s eye trailed off to the side again. 

“Things have changed. I don’t have to be a wretch anymore. Whatever power is out there decided to give me a second chance to live a good life.”

Kaladin followed his stare across the room, where Yebia was chatting with another person opposite of them at the bar. 

“I don’t come here for the drinks, son. Alcohol was never my vice.”

“You come here for Yebia.” Kaladin realized.

“_HMMmmmmmMMMmmmmmHhhusssssshhhhhhHHHH!!!_” Hush hummed, slithering in a figure-eight on the wood counter.

He pointedly ignored the creature.

“Urgh…” Gaz grunted, wilting down into his seat. “N-not the barkeep… Too young for me anyways.”

Kaladin turned to look again, confused.

“Huh? But-“ he stopped himself short when he realized who the perky barmaid was talking to.

It was Shallan’s other guard. 

The burly man was sitting casually at the bar, lowly talking to Yebia about something Kaladin couldn’t hear. It was probably lighthearted, judging by the body language. 

“Him.” Kaladin said matter-of-factly, mouth slightly agape.

“I really should be going.” Gaz said hurriedly, face turning a bright shade of red as he moved to stand up.

“No, wait.”

Gaz stopped mid-stand.

“I-… think I understand more than you think. I was just… shocked.”

Seemingly relieved, Gaz sat down wearily. 

“It’s… not something I expected, but… I’ve been through damnation and back with Vatha; fighting in the unclaimed hills as mercenaries, whisked away by Lady Shallan and turned into royal guards, and even being chosen to be a storming knight Radiant. But so far all I have is hope to run on.”

He turned his empty tankard upside down on the counter to non-verbally ask Yebia for another. 

Kaladin looked down into his cup. The crystalline ice was visible now that he had finished a majority of the glass’s contents. 

Gaz had just shared two of the deepest secrets a person could keep with him. Had he really been at this man’s mercy not more than 4 years ago?

They said nothing for a long time. 

Gaz seemed content to drink in silence, but the seed had already been planted for Kaladin. How had Gaz been able to reconcile himself? How could this man, who he once saw as miserable and pitiful, be more content, more resolved, than he was?

“How can you stand to live with it, Gaz?” 

Gaz cocked his head, brow scrunched.

“With the guilt.” Kaladin said.

Gaz stayed quiet for a time, slowly taking a pull.

“I don’t know if yer' looking for a magic answer, but… I can’t.” He glanced over at Vatha again, who was now fiddling with a coin while keeping busy with his drink. “I just know I have better things to worry about than my damned past self. I worry about keeping the me in the present from doing something stupid.”

Kaladin barely heard his answer, his mind starting to grow fuzzy. He felt himself nod.

They stayed silent for the rest of the night.


	11. Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter from syl's perspective, so I wanted the writing to be a bit sporadic, like her. I'm typing out the next chapter right now, and I hope I can upload it by the end of the day!

Kaladin didn’t notice when she left.

Well, he almost never did. The silly man still couldn’t see her sometimes, though she couldn’t hide from him for very long anymore; even when she tried really really hard. But he was used to her coming and going. 

So when Syl had fluttered away during his chat with that creepy oaf, Kaladin hadn’t even looked her way. 

She liked to think of herself as the mature one in their relationship; humans like Kaladin were always doing strange things. It annoyed her as to why they couldn’t just say things out loud to each other. Frustrating, honestly.

But she was an honorspren. She was used to fixing problems… At least she thought.

She flitted to and fro, her destination in the back of her mind as faces and sounds zipped past her. She was on a mission. Could spren go on missions? She wasn’t sure. She was kind of groggy for some reason. Not a “violation of the Nahel bond” groggy, that had been like painful forgetfulness. This was a… sleepy… warm, fatigue? She didn’t really know.

Spren didn’t really need to know where they were going, they could just sort of find themselves where they needed to be. That didn’t stop Syl from pausing every once in a while to cause some mischief or investigate something particularly sparkly, however. 

Moving out of the entertainment district and into the winding hallways of Urithiru, she zipped along dimly lit tunnels, holding onto the vague sense of the person she was seeking. She didn’t normally interact with other people besides Kaladin, but…

Syl’s subconscious guided her to an intersection in the tunnels that opened up into a small atrium, where a small sphere lantern hung from the ceiling and numerous doorways lined the walls. She turned to enter the leftmost hallway, then paused and reconsidered. The entrance seemed perfectly normal, except for a slight flickering around the edges of the carved-out frame. It was almost as if the soul of the doorframe itself was shifting back and forth. She shook her head and flew through the door to the right of it. She rarely ever got lost, but this place had been touched by an Unmade. The vestiges of its powers still coalesced in ways mere humans could never see. Sometimes her instincts pulled her towards certain places almost too intently. 

Syl shivered. 

She had to be on her guard.

She came to a stop in front of one of the rather normal looking wooden doors down a hallway that looked like any other. But this was an important unimportant wooden door. The Kholin family glyph was painted pristinely in bright blue paint on the door itself. She puffed to mist and slid under the gap of the door, then reassembled once inside. She remembered the place from visiting with Kaladin many times before, but she couldn’t help but feel the thrill of being alone.

Across the room, the scary older lady sat reading along with Dalinar, both of them leaning into each other. Syl smiled. She liked them a lot. Well, she liked them together. Navani was scary. Sometimes Syl swore that the woman would look right at her, judging her. She was glad she could be completely invisible to those around her.

“Dear, do you feel a draft?” Navani spoke softly, never taking her eyes off of her book.

Syl froze. She had been floating aimlessly towards a particular door when the woman had spoken up.

Dalinar glanced over at his wife, then cocked his head and looked as if pondering over one of life’s greatest mysteries.  
“Not particularly, why?”

Navani smiled, eyes lifting to stare absently into the air.

“Oh. No reason.” She said.

Syl could have sworn she saw a wink from the woman before she returned to her book. A wink directed at nothing but the empty space she was occupying…

No… It couldn’t be…

Syl shook her head and flew just a little faster.

She slipped under the frame of the door to Adolin’s chambers, shuddering as she left Navani and Dalinar behind; shuddering as much as the manifestation of an idea could, really.


	12. Mist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUUUUHH himbo

Adolin felt a bead of sweat pool at the tip of his nose before dripping lightly into the scented water below with a soft ‘plink’. He had drawn his bath much hotter than most days today. He had the idea that the heat would be a good reminder that he was still a battle-worn warrior, thick-skinned and resilient.

This was, of course, a stupid idea.

It didn’t stop him from indulging in the intensity of it, though. He yearned for battle amidst this brief period of peace. He missed the feeling of his shardplate around him, and of the thrill and ache of war.

A fine mist hung thickly in the air of the showering chambers, swirling and pooling, licking and curling. Adolin watched it swirl idly from the tub in the center of the room.

The whole mass moved as if it were alive, breathing. At points the mist seemed to move into him, beading against his skin and mixing with his sweat.

It was almost as if-…

He felt a sharp pinch on his nose.

Adolin’s eyes snapped open.

A wisp of mist stood out from the rest, inches from his face. It giggled and slithered away from him.

He yelped and backed further into the corner of the massive square tub.

A windspren? This far into the tower? Or... It couldn't be... Was it a rare mistspren?

He narrowed his eyes as the entire room of mist began to shift and shimmer, vibrating in waves noiselessly. The mist coalesced into an amorphous blob emanating a shimmering blue light that painted the walls brighter than any sapphire. It was so bright he had to shield his eyes and turn away.

When the light died down, he turned back to see a glowing figure of a woman wrapped in a swathe of mist that formed a dress.

She swiveled, turning to face him and giggled again; a tinkling, airy sound.

“**You!**” Adolin shouted, splashing water as he thrust a finger to point at the figure.

“Me!” the mist responded in a sing-songy tone.

“Sylphrena! Kaladin’s Spren?!”

“Me! Me!!” Sylphrena tittered happily, clapping her hands in amusement; the action of which oddly produced no sound.

Adolin lowered his hand slowly. Sylphrena was talking to him. Maya had talked to him before, but it was like a grating sound inside of his head. This felt like the wind blowing past his ears and words forming next to them.

When they were in Shadesmar she had never uttered a word to him, or even looked his way for that matter. She was practically attached to Kaladin.

“Y-…” He paused. He was talking to a _spren_. Every scholar on Roshar would **kill** for a chance to talk to a spren of higher consciousness. What should he say? What should he ask? What knowledge could he glean from this spirit?

“Why did you _pinch_ me?!” He fumed. (Somewhere else in the tower, Jasnah rolled her eyes.)

The woman simply shrugged. Her sapphire hair was pushed off her shoulder with the action, sending it flowing behind her as if suspended in water.

“Dunno. Felt right.”

Adolin leaned back. He nodded slowly. He supposed that seemed right, for a spren.

She rose a few feet of the ground and floated over to him, curiously investigating the bathwaters. There was no longer any mist in the chambers, leaving everything clear as day under the green light of the emerald lantern above them.

Wait a minute…

“Hey, wait!” Adolin frantically attempted to cover himself under the water. “You’re a lady! Get out of here!”

“Why?” She asked, innocent blue eyes shimmering.

“Y’know…! It’s improper! And I’m…” He trailed off, not wanting to state the obvious.

“Improper? I’m a _spren_! I can see everything anyway!” She giggled.

“Wait wait wait… why are you here? Why did you show yourself to me?” He asked, somehow immediately forgetting about propriety.

“Because of the **bond** silly.”

As she said this, she shook her head and snickered, as if this were the most obvious reason.

“Bond?”

“**Your** bond. With him!” She gestured toward a random side of the room, as if the person whom she was referring to were standing right there.

“With… Kaladin? My bond with… Kaladin? I’m not sure I understand.” He said simply. He looked down and decided that the water was sudsy enough to remove his hand and scratch his head.

Syl scrunched her face.

“Of course you don’t.” She set down on the water, seemingly standing on it. “That’s why _I’m _here.”

She grinned widely.

Adolin shivered. The bath water suddenly felt very cold.

“May I ask you to… um… not stand over me like that? It uh… is kind of menacing.” He shrank down under the gaze of the spren.

Despite the stories he’d heard about spren taking human forms, he’d never heard of one being the same size as a regular person.

She knelt down on the surface of the water, which rippled lightly, as if disturbed by a single raindrop.

“I came to talk to you Adolin.” Her face went serious. The whimsy and intrigue playing across her face moments before vanished in an instant.

He suddenly seemed hyper aware of how silent it was in the showering room. He grew tense.

“It’s about Kaladin.” She said, pupil-less eyes boring into him. “Something important is about to happen.”

“What is it?” He asked, concerned.

“I can’t say for sure. But what I do know is that he’s close, Adolin.” She traced a pattern into the water with an ethereal finger, eyes not leaving his face. “He’s close to the Fourth Ideal, and you’re going to lead him to it.”

“The Fourth Ideal… One of the sacred oaths?” Adolin watched her move the water gently with her finger. “But I don’t know anything about them. How am I supposed to lead him to it if I don’t even know what they are?”

Sylphrena stayed silent. She rose from her sitting position and walked on her knees over to him, still on the surface of the water. She put her hands on his shoulders and gripped them. He felt only a gentle pressure.

“Good.” She said, squeezing lightly. “It really will be you. I could already feel it, but the fact that I can touch you tells me how Kaladin really feels about you.”

“You still didn’t answer my question” He said. He was rather uncomfortable with the physical contact, but he shrugged off the feeling. This was different. “What do I have to do? Why is it me?”

She held his eyes for a moment and then stood up, letting go of his shoulders. She turned to look at one of the corners of the showering room with a faraway expression.

“Something is going to happen soon, Adolin. The Unmade left something here when Sha… when _she_ drove it away. I don’t know what it is or what it will do, but even the remnants of an Unmade are dangerous.”

“Re-Shephir… It’s still here?!” He asked incredulously.

“That name… Names have power Adolin Kholin. You would do well to not speak it so readily.” Sylphrena turned back to him, face stern, her tone firm.

That worried him. He didn’t have to know this spren for a long time to know that seriousness such as that was rare.

“It’s not here, no, but its influence is still strong. Physical presence means nothing to higher spren. When it was here, the Lightweaver and her Cryptic were the most sensitive to its presence; the most affected by it. But I’m sure even you’ve felt its touch recently. Human emotions seem to go haywire around it.”

She looked at him knowingly.

His mind flashed back to the particular day of Kaladin’s outbursts. He had to admit that even accounting for his normal behavior, the spearman had been acting erratically.

This gave rise to a flood of new questions in his head. Some very uncomfortable questions.

“Sylphrena… Does Kaladin…?” He began, trying to look away from her intense stare. “Is he…?”

She just continued to stare, urging him to finish.

Adolin took a deep breath.

“Does he feel things for me? Can the Unmade create false emotions in someone?”

She didn’t answer for a long time.

.

.

.

Her expression softened.

“Kaladin is not sensitive to the touch of the unmade. Our bond has weakened my ability to see the effects of spren when I’m in this realm. I can’t tell if what Kaladin is feeling is his own, but I’m confident in one thing; A bond is a bond. No spren, Unmade or not, can weaken a bond. The one that Kaladin has forged with you in his heart is too strong to be altered, I think.” She smiled reassuringly. Her cheerful side poked through the stern front she put up for the conversation.

Despite the gravity of what she had said, Adolin felt a weight come off his shoulders. At the very least, he knew now that Kaladin didn’t hate him. But a whole slew of new issues now plagued his mind.

“Sylphrena… How can I defeat the Unmade? Shallan only drove it away, and she was a storming _radiant_.”

“You can’t beat it by yourself, dummy. The Unmade are…” She paused and cocked her head, seemingly listening to something.

A shiver seemed to travel through her, her semi-transparent form buzzing and flickering around the edges.

A fit of giggles began to overtake her, and she shifted so she was hovering slightly above the bath.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned. The bathwater splashed around him as he stood up sharply and waded closer to her. “Sylphrena?”

She didn’t respond. The blue spren clutched her stomach while floating up to the ceiling and continued to laugh, hair flowing around her.

“**Sylphrena!**” He shouted. He tried to grab her, but his hand went right through her leg.

Adolin was starting to panic. He hadn’t interacted with spren long enough to know if this was normal.

As suddenly as it started, she stopped. Suspended in midair, motionless and expressionless, she hung silently for several heartbeats. Her face grew wide and her mouth gaped as smoke poured out from it, her form flickering violently. She let out a soft whine and puffed into mist, leaving a swirling cloud that filled the room and populated every corner. Immediately the bathwater returned to its blistering temperature, and the sudden humidity almost made Adolin choke.

He was about to call out for her again, worried something horrible had happened, when a small voice rang in his ear.

“Sorry, I took a little too long. I gotta get back to Kal! You shoulda seen the look on your face!” Sylphrena said cheerily before snickering.

“Don’t _storming **scare **_me like that! Damnation, woman!” Adolin roared. He felt his face grow red from being scared so easily by a spren. He splashed his fists down in the water out of frustration, only to spray water in his face.

The giggling grew softer and seemed to retreat away from him, before he was finally left alone in the bathing chambers with his thoughts.


	13. Cloudburst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I've been a bad father to this fanfiction I know, but I promise I'm gonna finish it soon! :(  
I'm at the cusp of moving on from college so it's very very busy for me, please forgive the lack of updates!  
-Death

“It’s not about what you “believe”, Yor, it’s about what I _want_.”

The wizened ardent that Jasnah was speaking to made a sound of disbelief, clutching the charm around his neck with his mouth open in shock.

“Your _Majesty_! I should hope that you would treat your retainers with a tad more respect! I was si-…”

Jasnah raised her hand in front of her and cut him off.

“You were simply trying to explain to me that what I want isn’t within the best interests of my people. This isn’t a court, and this is most certainly **not** a debate. Now do as I have asked of you and gather teams to sweep the tower.”

Yor scowled, then turned on his heel and saw himself out of the royal lounge.

Adolin, who had been sitting on a plush sofa across from Jasnah, winced.

“Storms Jas, you could stand to be a little nicer to them. They’re only doing their job…”

“Their “job” leads them to be overargumentative and blinded by faith. If I, a knight radiant, say that there is imminent danger in Urithiru, then there is imminent danger.” She huffed.

She shifted in her armchair and drew her legs up onto it, a comfortable yet very “unqueenly” action, as the ardents had put it.

“And where is that maidservant? I asked for our tea _minutes _ago.”

Adolin ignored the question and took the time to take in the massive lounge once again. It was a huge stone room, much like most of the rooms in the tower, except that it had massive pillars with masterfully carved artwork at every corner. One wall housed the giant hearth that they had moved most of the furniture towards, which stood in the middle of a beautiful mural crafted by what must have been one of the most prominent artists at the time. The room really was quite breathtaking. Jasnah had taken quite a liking to it. She had told Adolin that it reminded her of Shallan’s own work.

She really did have quite the soft spot for his former betrothed.

“So, Jas, can I continue? I barely explained what happened before you went hollering for your ardents.” Adolin said.

“Of course. I should like to hear of the entire exchange. Ivory and I have conferred over the matter before; bonded spren rarely seek the company of others, so anything you can tell me could change what we know about their kind.”

He recounted Sylphrena’s visit from the beginning, going into as much detail as he could. It only took him a few minutes, but Jasnah stared him down eagerly, drinking up every word like a starving whitespine. He left out the part about Kaladin, of course, but mentioned the prank she pulled on him in case it was important.

Jasnah took it all in stride, her expression never faltering even at the mention of the Unmade again. As he finished, she swirled her teacup and took a long sip, eyes closed seemingly in thought. There was a long pause before either of them spoke again.

“Jasnah…” Adolin began hesitantly. “Can I… ask you something?”

Her eyebrow raised slightly.

“It’s uh… something personal.” He nervously swept his hair behind an ear.

She waved her hand as if to say, ‘Go on.’

“Do you… I mean, I wouldn’t expect you to know, but… do you think… d-does… does Kal think… does he-“ He stuttered, blush creeping across his face as she focused on him.

She snapped at him, interrupting. “Please boy, are you a highprince or a lost puppy?! Speak your mind!”

“Does Kaladin like me?” he blurted out.

She simply looked at him for a few moments, then sighed a heavy sigh. She propped her elbow on the chair arm and leaned to rub at her eyes tiredly. She sagged somewhat. As much as someone like Jasnah could sag, regal bearing and all.

He immediately felt foolish.

“Queen of Alethkar,” She murmured softly, “or High Relationship Counselor of Alethkar…”

“I’m sorry Jas, it’s just-“

She held her other hand up, the one that she wasn’t pinching the bridge of her nose with, to quiet him.

“Cousin, Adolin, you know I’m here to listen and give advice, that much I’m sure of, but is now really the time for this? What, heralds above, does your status with that grouchy windrunner have to do with the potentially catastrophic news you just shared with me?”

“Well… The Unmade, last time it was here, was imitating people. It was learning from us, manipulating us. I’m just… worried. He’s… important to me…”

He expected Jasnah to laugh, to scoff even. He braced for a scolding, but it never came.

Instead, she looked concerned.

“Adolin, I think you are much smarter than you let on. This is not something I even dreamed to consider.”

Now it was his turn to be confused. He eyed her quizzically, almost skeptically, as if expecting her to be making fun of him.

“Oh don’t give me that look. You just presented some _very_ worrying information.” She lost the tiredness in her eyes as she spoke, latching onto this new puzzle. “You’re correct in the fact that the Unmade was learning to imitate humans at an alarming rate. Left unchecked as it has been, this could present a disastrous security risk. Storms, this may be worse than I thought.”

Adolin hadn’t been thinking about the risk this posed to everyone, though, only Kaladin. He felt ashamed because of it.

“You don’t think…” He almost choked on his thought. “You don’t think it could be imitating him… could it?”

Jasnah paused but then shook her head quickly.

“No.” she said firmly. “No, I should think that would be quite impossible.

When he thought why that might be, his eyes nearly crossed. She continued, coming to his rescue.

“If you think about it, the Unmade cannot replicate stormlight, nor can they replicate Radiant spren. They are not of Honor and cannot fathom the workings of its Investiture. Just as we cannot fathom things of Odium.”

Adolin nodded. That made sense.

“So… He could not use stormlight if he was an imitation. And Syl would not be with him either.” He said slowly. The realization put him at ease somewhat.

He flashed back to his confrontation with Kaladin in the hallway, the wisps of stormlight around him, the cracks in the wall where he had slammed his fist. He was definitely not an imitation.

“Correct. I learned much of the Unmade during my time traveling the cognitive realm. Though a precious little next to their vastness. There are more things I do not know about them compared to what I do know. We do know that The Midnight Mother can manipulate people, and whether that can extend to Radiants is unknown. I’m afraid your concerns for Kaladin may be justified.” She explained as she stared bitterly at her empty cup.

“So what do we do?” Adolin asked sullenly. He twisted in his chair uncomfortably, trying to settle his nerves.

“What do **_we_** do?” She repeated, arching her eyebrow again. “I’m sorry Adolin but I can’t ask you to do anything. Last time it took a Radiant to drive the creature away, and even I’m not sure _how_ my apprentice managed to do even that. This is dangerous Adolin.”

The words stung at him. A Radiant. Something he would never be. He was sure of that.

“And you think I haven’t courted danger before?” He growled bitterly. He was looking down at his clenched fists in his lap.

Jasnah stayed silent for a time.

“No. But I know how you must feel.” She grew a far off, distant look. “On the night when my father-“

She choked on her words for a brief moment, then continued.

“When my father was murdered, I was just beginning to awaken as a Radiant. But it wasn’t soon enough. I thought I was going mad. By the time I realized that I had awakened a power that could have changed the winds of that night, he was long dead. It tore me apart.” Her voice wavered, as if on the verge of tears, but her face showed no emotion. She only continued to stare coldly at the empty cup.

“Jasnah. I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t seen his cousin like this since his uncle’s burial, and he had been just a boy then.

“I know you want to protect him, and you can. But you must protect yourself. For his sake.” As Jasnah said this she shook herself, then stood up and crossed the room with her cup and saucer to fetch herself more tea.

_Storms_. Adolin thought to himself tiredly. _Why does it have to be me, Syl? I would’ve been better off not knowing…_

“Regardless,” Jasnah began, voice brightening from its earlier grimness. “I suppose you’re wanting some sort of answer to your earlier question?”

It was the knowing that laced her tone that made him blush.

“I… uh… I mean you don’t have to. I was only worried about him is all.” He mumbled, feeling embarrassed.

Her back was still turned to him, busying herself with the contents of the tea tray.

“Oh was that all? He _does_ like you, you know. I was sure of that; the poor boy is quite easy to read. But you…”

Jasnah tilted her head slightly to glance over at him. There was a twinkle in her eye that made him shiver.

“I was surprised that it was a… --what did you call them?-- ah, yes a “storming bridgeboy” that caught your attention. You betray yourself cousin. Have you been eyeing as many muscle-bound lummoxes as you have courtly ladies when no one is watching? You’ve had us all quite fooled!” She gave a low chuckle, then threw back her head in a laugh when she saw his bug-eyed expression.

“I-…! I didn’t even-…! It’s not-…!” He stammered frantically.

“Oh Adolin, dear cousin,” she said heartily, still chuckling. “Well… dear brother, now I suppose… But you hardly need to hide anything, it’s not as if we are blind to your affection. You’ve been flirting with the man quite openly in recent times. Why, it was only last month that you had quite the grip on his buttocks during the war strategy summit --and don’t you dare start your babbling about “male comraderie”-- excellent strategical suggestion or not you gave him a firm squeeze and I **saw **it!”

Adolin almost died from shame on the spot. He couldn’t smoke and mirror his way out of Jasnah’s perception. She would think what she wanted to think when she thought of it.

And this time, he was sure that what she thought was correct.

“Jasnah…” He groaned, defeated, sagging in his seat.

She settled back into her plush chair with her cup and saucer and gave another snicker of satisfaction.

“Oooh don’t be so touchy, Adolin. I think you’ll find that we’re all quite on your side!”

“We?” He said worriedly. He didn’t think he could take much more of her knowledge on the matter.

“Our parents, brother.”

“I _knew _they knew something!” He shouted, miffed. He grumbled and dug the palms of his hands against his eyes. His knee bumped the table as he slid down so that his back was on the seat of the sofa.

“Dramatic, aren’t we? Something the two of you boys have in common.” She snickered again wryly. “Nevertheless, we’re here for you Adolin. I may not be the… best… with emotional endeavors but we will support you if you need it. I understand myself that some of the things you’re feeling may be new and… quite terrifying” She shivered at the last part but smiled warmly at him.

He eyed her suspiciously again. Jasnah was never dishonest. She was never deceptive with him either. But this was a worrisome thing to have brought out.

He sighed. “Thank you, Jas. It means a lot.”

He relaxed a bit, then sat up straight in his chair. They moved on from the topic. Discussing plans to deal with the Unmade, and when that got to be too heavy, they moved onto lighter topics.

But no matter what they talked about, his thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation he had with Sylphrena.

_Something is going to happen soon, Adolin._

The words she had said to him buzzed in his mind angrily. Wanting him to move, to act, to confront the danger. He had never been idle when the danger was this close. It ate at his core to sit and talk. But what could he do? He couldn’t fight this battle, Jasnah had told him.

It made him want to throw up. He hated this feeling of uselessness. But the truth of it stuck with him. For Kaladin’s sake, he would protect himself.


	14. Squall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, did I just write an entire chapter in one sitting and not proofread it? Absolutely. This is what you folks have been waiting for :)  
-death

The grime on Kaladin’s sword barely even bothered him today. His head throbbed, his eyes felt heavy, his stomach was betraying him, and after it all; his heart ached. Even though he could have infused stormlight to alleviate some of the burden of last night’s drink, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He hardly cared to anyway. At least he knew that his hangover was genuine.

He sat in the training yard’s equipment building, slumped on a bench near the practice swords hanging in a row on the wall. The bite of the morning chill dug into him through his undershirt. He was lazily cleaning his equipment in preparation for practice with Adolin.

He didn’t really want to think about Adolin, though.

Last night he had drunken himself into a stupor after seeing Gaz at the strange bar in the commerce quarter. Against his better judgement, and despite much chastisement from Syl, he had let go of his stormlight and submitted himself to drink. He dimly remembered stumbling into the Bridge Four barracks well after Nomon’s rise, and the worried looks on his friends’ faces in the morning had confirmed that that hadn’t been a dream, unfortunately. He felt… ashamed of himself. He was ashamed, but he would take the horrid aftereffects of drink as his punishment.

He groaned and leaned down to dig his palms into his eyes to rub some of the haziness out of them.

“Storms, I must be one of the ten fools…” He growled at himself.

“Talking to yourself Kal? A careful man might grow concerned…”

He turned to see Adolin striding in at that exact moment, smug face and bright shining pauldrons.

But instead of retorting, getting angry, or any other number of responses, he simply turned back to his sword and resumed wiping it with his grubby oiled rag. He didn’t have the energy for snide remarks today.

“What, not even a scowl today?” He said as he set down his satchel on the bench opposite from Kaladin.

“How do you know that I wasn’t just talking to Syl?” Kaladin said mutely, tired eyes never leaving his sword.

Adolin chuckled. “Because she’s over there.” He pointed over his shoulder while he rummaged through his satchel for his training vest.

What he saw took him by surprise. Kaladin eyes bulged when he saw Syl, the size of a full human, swinging a blue longsword out in the practice yard. What was even more shocking was that she had a formal havah on, like something you would see an aristocrat wearing at a ball, and definitely not in a dusty training yard.

He almost asked what she was doing, before remembering that she was **his** spren, and not Adolin’s. Instead he opted to just shake his head and go back to his sword, trying to avoid the other man.

“What’s got you so down?” Adolin asked as he unbuttoned his pressed shirt, back still turned to Kaladin. “You’re hardly as quick to jab at me lately.”

Kaladin only grumbled a, “nothing”, while poignantly **_not_** looking at the shaggy blond man’s chiseled back.

“Oh?” Adolin chirped, “So it has nothing to do with the stink of alcohol on your breath?”

The highprince turned to face Kaladin with a grin on his face, crossing his arms over his stupidly beautiful chest.

**_Stop it! _**Kaladin warned himself. **_Stop!!!_**

“I said it’s _nothing_.” He gritted, just a little too abrasively.

“Awww, there he is! Just needed a little push is all.”

**_Storms_**_, he’s infuriating… _Kaladin thought.

He gritted his teeth, pressing his oily rag so hard against his sword that he thought he might bend it. His face flushed under the gaze of the prince’s smirking face.

“Damnation!” He hissed. “Just get ready to fight and leave me alone.”

He had to clench his toes to keep himself from lunging at Adolin and wiping that storming smirk off of his face. The highprince must’ve sensed the anger building and acquiesced, holding his hands up in a gesture of feigned innocence. He didn’t say a single word to Kaladin for the rest of the time that he changed.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dust swirled along the massive terrace of Urithiru as the two men readied themselves in their practice stances. Syl watched from a distance, still showing herself to both of them in her human sized form. She fingered the blue longsword next to her as she watched, letting her legs dangle towards the dusty platform as she sat on the retaining wall.

A gaggle of windspren swirled over to her, giggling and tinkling in the merry way that was natural to them.

Kaladin and Adolin began their daily exercises. It started with their normal sparring, the way that was natural to them.

She leaned into one of the tiny windspren, letting it press against her ear to tell her what she wanted.

She nodded. Grim.

Kaladin let out a cry of frustration as his sword was knocked to the side effortlessly by the highprince.

She watched them absently as the translucent ribbon curled around her head, giggling like a little girl. Sometimes Syl wished she could return to that mindset, even if only for a day. She didn’t have to worry about bad things when she was stupid.

The two struggled as blade met hilt, grinding against each other. Adolin flexed and used the leverage he had to shove Kaladin the ground, where he fell hard and dust puffed up around him. The highprince sneered smugly at him and gave a mock Bridge Four salute, as sloppily as he could of course.

“**Storm you!**” He cursed, scratching his fingernails in the dirt. Sweat coated and finely dusted with a layer of clay, he looked ready to tear into Adolin like a cornered animal.

He yelled at Adolin some more, but Syl wasn’t really listening. The thrumming she had felt from the Unmade was steady in the back of her mind, ever present. If she wasn’t careful, she could almost give into the pull.

It was like a fishing hook was stuck in her mind, not quite reeling her in, but stuck enough that it made her stomach turn.

…

What in Ash’s Eye’s was a fishing hook anyway?

A rush of stormlight pulled her back as Kaladin threw a pool of glowing blue light at the ground beneath Adolin. The prince made a sound of surprise as his boots stuck to the ground at the soles. Kaladin skittered to his feet and rushed at Adolin, throwing his sword to the side and rushing at the man with a look of fury in his eyes. He reeled back for a strong punch at Adolin, putting his whole back into it and…

Adolin took that exact moment to fall backwards out of his unlaced boots and onto his backside, leaving the boots glued upright where he was standing.

Syl let herself cock a small smile. She had undone his laces just before the fight to see if he would trip, but this was a better result than she ever could have planned for.

Kaladin, having put his entire body into the swing, whiffed and stumbled forward to fall on top of Adolin with a _thump._

_~ssssshhhhsssssshhhhh~_

The smile faded from Syl’s face as she looked over her shoulder at the windspren, beckoning her in the free air off the terrace’s edge.

“Right…” She said softly. “It’s time.”

She took one last look at the two struggling forms on the balcony. Their shouts and cries intermingled as they wrestled in the dirt.

“Goodbye Kal.”

She stood up, smoothed her incorporeal dress, and stepped off the balcony.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“**YOU!**” Adolin screamed. “**You tried to PUNCH me again!**”

He grabbed Kaladin’s hair and slammed his head back onto the dirt, making the man gasp.

The windrunner quickly recovered and threw his elbow against Adolin’s shoulder, then kneed him in the gut.

They were practically wrestling on the ground now. Growling and shoving and kicking and snapping like feral whitespines.

“Why?!” Kaladin roared. “Why do you have to make me FEEL like this?!”

He grunted as he twisted Adolin’s arm and flipped him over, throwing his weight on top of the blond man.

Adolin tossed his head back into Kaladin’s, making him curse, and threw the other man’s hands from his arms. He didn’t care about any of that right now, he was pissed.

He wrestled against Kaladin, who was still recovering from the blow, then shoved with his legs to push him back and land on top of him. Kaladin heaved as the air left his lungs. Adolin whipped around and snatched both of the bridgeman’s wrists to shove them above his head, holding them there with the tight grip of a swordmaster.

Kaladin grunted in frustration and attempted to kick at Adolin, but he was already being straddled where his legs couldn’t reach. The highprince pressed his full weight against Kaladin and sat firm.

“Y’know we could just stick to yelling, I’m not sure why it always has to end with you underneath me.” Adolin growled snidely, inches from the other man’s face.

Kaladin hocked and spat at him.

Adolin snapped.

“**STOP IT!**” Adolin grabbed both of his wrists in one hand and backhanded the man square across the cheek. “**Will you stop acting like a storming BRAT for 5 minutes?!**”

Kaladin looked stunned.

“**JUST STOP!!**”

The highprince ground his teeth as he seethed. If the heralds were watching they’d swear he was a voidbringer. He could beat this man senseless for driving him this mad. This man was hot and cold with him like night and day, and then had the _audacity _to try and attack him!

It was-

He was-

He felt his heartbeat thumping, the blood pumping through him from a high of adrenaline. He felt the hot breath of the other man hitting his face, washing over him as heat rose from his stomach to his chest. He could feel Kaladin’s pulse, hot on his wrist from where he held it, beating against its cage. Kaladin was staring up at him with that same fire in his eyes he’d seen so many times before, that damned intensity. The windrunner’s lips parted as he gasped for air, the extra pressure from Adolin on his midsection adding to the intense rush of their fight.

He knotted his fist into Kaladin’s shirt and felt a low growl rise from him, eyes never breaking contact. Adolin’s stomach twisted as he panted, feeling Kaladin underneath him, feeling their heavy breathing sync up.

Kaladin seemed to search the Prince’s eyes, expression fierce and face flush as cool wisps of stormlight escaped his open lips.

“Wh-…” was all Kaladin could get out before Adolin leaned down…

.

.

.

and kissed him.

.

.

.

The kiss was barely a suggestion of the struggle they had just had. It was tender, soft. The prince unballed the fist on Kaladin’s shirt and slid it, slowly, ever so slowly up Kaladin’s nape, searching for that quickening pulse. Drunk on the sensation of his mouth on Kaladin’s, he sighed as one kiss became two, brushing his own against the spearman’s still parted lips that quivered as they met. As quickly as it had come though, it retreated, with the flickering of Kaladin’s shaky breaths ghosting on Adolin’s lips with a thin trail of stormlight.

Suddenly seeming to break out of his stupor, Adolin’s eyes widened.

“S-…” He wet his lips and swallowed thickly “Storms Kal I’m so sorry I-… I don’t know what I was thinking, I-…”

Kaladin, with his arms still pinned above his head, snarled and crashed his lips against Adolin’s.

The three realms seemed to converge in that moment as every sensation slammed into him at once. The world stopped moving as he was assaulted with the sensation of Kaladin overtaking his senses. He could feel the intoxicating scent of sweat and oil mingle with his tongue as he tasted Kaladin, fighting to control his body’s reactions as they quickly spiraled. Where he had been slow, Kaladin was as he always was: fiery, passionate, deliberate.

**Ten heartbeats.**

Adolin shuddered as the other man let out a half growl, half moan and pushed deeper into him, fighting, exploring, tasting. His mind was going numb, lost to the rhythm of their combined heartbeats as they wrestled with each other once more. He dropped Kaladin’s wrists, who immediately broke the kiss for a gasp of air, then seized Adolin by the shoulders and flipped them both to switch positions. They were starving.

**Ten heartbeats.**

Without wasting a moment Kaladin dove back into Adolin’s waiting mouth, breathing ragged and hands clawing at the prince’s back to gain more purchase. Adolin’s hands dug hard into his hair, pulling him closer, closer, trying to get as much of him as he possibly could, to take everything he could get as if it would be whisked away from him at any moment; Drinking him in. Unconsciously, Kaladin bucked as his hair was tugged, moaning against Adolin as he licked into him, who matched him with a sharp whine of need.

**Ten heartbeats.**

Adolin threw his legs around Kaladin’s midsection, pressing them even closer together, letting the heat between them pool and grow even hotter. The prince was suffocating between the way the windrunner claimed his mouth and the way the thick cloud of his scent fogged his mind; it was all so much. All he could hang onto was the heartbeats. It connected them. Tied them together. The touching, the lapping, the melding of their bodies.

**Ten heartbeats.**

He was shaking, holding onto Kaladin for dear life as the sensations overpowered him and all he could do was give in. He felt the bridgeman slide a hand beneath his shirt to tease at his skin, palming at the hard muscle of his chest as he moved to nip at the prince’s jaw, biting down in places, then licking over them. He gasped, then groaned loudly as Kaladin placed a hard bite on his collarbone, sending shivers straight to his core and making him tighten his grip on the other man’s hair.

He was so overwhelmed by the sensation that he didn’t even hear the guards approaching.

“Um…” He heard someone say as the thudding of boots suddenly assaulted his ears.

“Heralds above!” Adolin snapped to attention, pushing Kaladin off of him and scrambling to his feet.

Apparently still dazed, Kaladin said “Hey! I thought we-…”

Then noticed the 20 or so guardsmen approaching.

“STORMFATHER!” He swore.

“Uumm…” Said the same voice as before, but this time paired with a sheepish looking captain who was about as big as Rock. “U- Urgent news er… Brightlords…?”

One of the soldiers coughed and a couple others scuffed their boots on the dusty ground, avoiding looking at the two disheveled, dust-covered men.

Kaladin looked like he was about to pass away, but Adolin at least had the pride of a Highprince to stand up straight.

Clearing his throat and nonchalantly dusting off his uniform, Adolin regarded the tall captain.

“Well? Its urgent isn’t it? Out with it then?”

“U-uh, yes. Right. The- the news. The urgent newsyesum… OH! Brightlord, The Queen, she’s **GONE**!”

“Jasnah?” Adolin gasped, wide eyed. “What do you mean?!”

“Her spren, brightlord, it came streaking into our quarters, hysterical that The Queen was chasing after a-…” The captain’s breath caught in his throat, nervously shifting on his feet. “An _Unmade_, brightlord!”

Kaladin’s brow furrowed in worry

“Hysterical? That hardly sounds like Ivory at all…” He muttered, face still flush.

“Jas…” Adolin breathed.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Ten Heartbeats.**

.

.

.

.

.

Adolin pushed past the guards and broke out into a dead run towards Urithiru, Kaladin right by his side.


End file.
